Looking for the joke with a microscope

If I played guitar I'd be Jimmy Page, the girlies I like are underage.

2011-08-05T01:23:00.000-07:00

For sale is a 2000 Custom Shop Gibson ES446. (I think I'm dating this correct, but the serial number is clear in the pic if you would like to double check yourself).

What I can tell you is this is a clean custom shop guitar that is no longer made, it is rare, and it is in very good condition.

If you don't know about this guitar, it's somewhere between a Les Paul, a Johnny A, and a thinner, easier to play ES 137. It's does from warm and jazzy to rocking out. Acoustically it is super loud and resonant when not plugged in, and won't disappoint when it is.

2 humbuckers, , fully hollow body. The top and braces are carved from spruce, and the body is carved out of mahogany (at least that's what I read, I don't know).

The color is a strange variation on the standard sunburst, where the red is a bit more burgundy and the yellow is deep. This could be due to age or simply how it came straight from the Gibson Custom Shop.

Overall it's in good shape, sounds great, and has a terrific vibe - easy to play, light as hell, nice neck, all it needs is a setup and some fresh strings.

Only marks or blemishes are some minor marks near the straplock (see photo below), some dulling on the metal hardware, and light wear on the front and back from playing and not sitting in a case. Apart from that, the bone colored plastic circle that sits outside the toggle for pickups is missing. This is easy, and I probably have the part somewhere, but I didn't want to take apart the toggle as I knew I'd be fighting to get the stuff to stay in place once it was unscrewed. I'm not a tech, I'm a musician, so I leave that to the pros.

The pickups are great, the electronics in good working order, and it's ready to go.

The tuners (as seen in the pix) aren't original, as someone replaced them with Grovers, and once it's set up it stays in tune pretty well.

I've had it for years and would hate to part with it, but I have to finish my bike and have other guitars....and you can't hang on to all of em!

Comes with the original custom shop case (The outside is a little beat up from touring, but still in good shape). The guitar has been kept in a studio for the better part of the last 5 years, and I've used it on many recordings with my band.

All in all it's a really unique and rare guitar in great shape. If you're a collector looking for guitar show quality with zero imperfections then this is not your guitar, but if you want a really nice hollow body in great shape to actually play and not just hang on the wall, this is all you.

I would like to sell it privately, but if need be it can be listed on the bay.

Any questions message me on here or email me at -
thevalley@me.com

Come down, Steady B. like this!!

2011-07-28T02:30:00.000-07:00

Arty and I stopped by Terry's shoot.
Always a great hang when T-Bone's in town.
We talked hip-hop, ate popcorn with truffle oil and drank crazy expensive Beverly Hills juices while a woman at the studio made us espresso.
After, I convinced Arty to swing by Papaya King, my new drug dealer.
Good Friday.

The future's open wide.

2011-03-23T05:04:00.000-07:00

As of a few moments ago, my old and dear friend Steve Berra's website, The Berrics is hosting the world premiere of my band's latest video, "Must Be The One".

It is a video I directed, and since all of the principal "actors" are actual skateboarders, it's fitting that it debut on the largest skateboarding website in the world.

There is a funny back-story to mine and Berra's relationship and how we came to know one another nearly two decades ago, but I'll let him tell that story....

I can't stress enough how pleased I am that this video which I'm so very proud of is premiering on a website I spend so much time looking at and deeply respect. I was actually kind of surprised when Steve agreed to post it, I mean, after all, there isn't much skating in it (Though the extended cut which will be out in a few weeks will have some serious bangers from the leads, Casey, Nakel, Sagan, as well as Cash, Lui, Lucien and some other homies as well as some cameos from some very cool kids and friends of ours who didn't make the tight narrative edit of the video), and though it's shot at the North Hollywood Skate Plaza, all you really see is kids skating, not really doing tricks or anything heavy - but after Berra saw it what was clear was that he connected with the feeling of the piece...he totally understood what it was I was going for and he felt it.

To me what's important about the video is that it's real, at least a type of reality. It features real people. Real skaters, real girls - real kids, not actors or models, in fact, with the exception of two people, all of the stars are people who are either good friends or connected to me in one way or another, some even the children of my friends.

It had to be this way. The video I was trying to make was about kids being real. Not necessarily in the way we're accustomed to seeing kids behave, but in the way kids behave when no one's looking - when we're not worried about how we look, if we're being cool or sticking to the script of what's hip or not. I wanted to show the excitement of a crush, a first kiss, the nervous feeling in your stomach when you get that call or text that he or she is there, and the ensuing anxiety of what to wear.

I envisioned a somewhat idealistic view of the quintessential California experience of youth.

Call it a webisode, a commercial for youth, a postcard of the San Fernando Valley - more than anything there was a tone and feeling I was trying to achieve, and with the help of a great team of people, I feel that we did just that.

It was of course, all anchored by the song that we wrote, cause after all it's a music video, but it had to be more than just that, cause when you first hear the song it feels like it should be playing over the end credits of a film, perhaps a teen love story, perhaps a coming of age movie, maybe both.

So when I was lying in bed in Aspen, Colorado thinking about all of these things in preparation for the video shoot that was less than a week away, it was only natural that it hit me like a bolt of lightning; Deborah Foreman, the Texas born beauty who embodied the San Fernando Valley like no one before or since in her portrayal of Julie Richmond in the motion picture, Valley Girl.

Suddenly I realized that the scene in my video where the girls were getting ready to head to the skatepark and meet up with the boys was missing one vital ingredient - the mom - and what could be cooler than having Deborah Foreman play her? It would be a nod and homage to Colleen Camp playing Deborah's mother in Valley Girl - not only the single most important film of my childhood (whose soundtrack influenced my ideas about music, whose story told me all I needed to know about love at all costs, and whose theme song, "Melt With You" was played at my very own wedding when I stepped on the glass to cheers of Mazel Tov…but I digress.). More to the point, this was a film that undoubtedly echoed throughout the album my bandmate and I had just completed, our love letter to the place we grew up, Valleyheart.

I sat up in bed and thought to myself, "If Julie Richmond was in my video, it would not only be completely full circle with her playing the mom and riffing on the scene where her and Stacey get ready before the big party at the beginning of the film, but it would be the cherry on top of what was already shaping up to be a video that put visuals to the sound and feeling of a full day and night in the San Fernando Valley in the summertime. Meta to say the least.

With my mind going 100 miles an hour I Googled her and found out that not only was she a Pilates instructor living in Los Angeles, but that she was even more stunning than ever.

And the kicker - her email was on her website.

"Dude", I said across the room to Adam who I was bunking with while attending the Winter X-Games, "Deborah Foreman....I'm gonna get Deborah Foreman to be in the video".

I don't remember his exact response, and though he loved the idea, he probably felt as I did, that it was a great idea, but too bad it will never happen.

I returned to LA, got back to my life and pre-production for the video, and though I mentioned the idea to my wife, I didn't dare do anything about it. The idea of cold-calling one of your heroes can be terrifying, and though I honestly knew she simply HAD to be in it, I did nothing - that is until two days before the shoot date.

As I sat down sometime around midnight and went over my shotlist, casting photos and visual references, I said to myself, "Fuck it", and wrote a very long, very honest, letter to Ms. Foreman.

I told her everything.

I told her that Adam and I grew up in the Valley and just how much her film inspired us and helped shape who we were as individuals and as a band, I told her that I knew of every single movie she'd ever done, including The Experts, I told her all about the concept behind Valleyheart, and that the album cover, album title, and the feeling within probably owes a debt to her and her performance in the film that had changed our lives, I told her that I knew every single frame, line, song cue, beat and moment from Valley Girl, and that there was literally no one who knew this film like I did.

And finally, I told her that at the risk of sounding incredibly presumptuous, that I would do for her what Quentin had done for Travolta and what P.T.A. had done for Phillip Baker Hall, that if she wanted to return to acting, that this was the way to do it, and I was going to not only reintroduce her to the world, but that I would do so in a way that was deserving of her legacy, her beauty and her talent.

I can't put into words how it felt when I heard the "ding" of my Mac Mail and saw the message in the inbox from Debby Foreman.

A few emails later and she agreed to do it, saying, "why not, I'm in", and I was the luckiest boy in the world, on the verge of tears as I said over and over to my wife, "can you even believe this?” while we sat in bed tripping the fuck out that this was actually happening.

When I set my mind to something it usually happens, that is if it's meant to be.

It's always been that way.

I immediately got on the phone with Adam and we shared a very meaningful, "wow" moment.

The next day I called Debby (as she prefers to be called), and heard the laugh I'd known since I was 10 years old.

Then it struck me - I was speaking to Julie Richmond, the first girl I ever fell in love with.

Two days later when I answered the knock on my front door, there she was. The same face, the same smile...it was truly dazzling.

Everyone on my team had their own Debby experience, Adam, Stefanie, Brooke, Ari, Matt....I mean, how could you not? The original Valley Girl was in my living room - the same place that houses every lobby card ever produced, the framed movie poster, the framed LP, and the wedding portrait taken moments after Stefanie and I kissed for the first time as man and wife to Randy and Julie's getaway music.

Around 7:30 AM, everyone had their coffee and got into wardrobe, and I spent some time going over what I had planned. I handed Debby and the girls a little 9-page scene I'd written a few hours before in the middle of the night. Debby laughed, asked if she was meant to memorize this in the hour before we began shooting and I told her no, it was merely a reference for the action.

When it came time to shoot her, it was no less than magical. Watching her on the monitor and directing her was a dream come true. She had the same sparkle, charm, sweetness, and sense of humor that made so many of us fall in love with her when we first saw her on the screen.

I simply cannot wait to release the long form extended cut with audio. Don't get me wrong, everything that is so wonderful about her comes through from the moment she enters frame (and what an entrance it is), but when you hear the dialogue between her and the girls, it's amazing - so real, so true, and so, so Debby.

When she left the set we handed her a bouquet of flowers and hugged goodbye, Adam did a little interview, snapped some photos, and off she went, but when she drove off, we knew watching Valley Girl would never be the same again, yes it would still be one of the most important films of our lives, but now it had taken on a different meaning.

Since then Adam and I have become friends with Debby, and we don't take that lightly.

I plan to make good on my promise to make her a star again, and she and I are looking forward to working together on several other projects I have planned. She is my muse, and how fucking lucky am I?

Adam and I have probably mentioned the soundtrack and film Valley Girl over a hundred times in interviews and it's actually something we discussed as a touchstone the first time we ever sat down to make music together, but never in a million years did we think that Deborah Fucking Foreman would be appearing in a music video of ours, let alone someone we talk to daily on Twitter.

Life is funny like that.

In the end, Valleyheart is a record about who we are and where we come from, and this video is a little piece of that.

I hope you enjoy it

Thank you to everyone who made it possible, especially Debby.

http://theberrics.com/

I came to bring some Christmas spirit, I got a big bag now guess what's in it, somethin' for the rich, somethin' for the po, so merry xmas & ho-ho-ho.

2010-12-25T01:31:00.000-08:00

Sonny Liston.
This photo ruffled a few feathers in 1963.
In some parts of the country it still would.
#teaparty

Last year I posted a Christmas mix.
Looking back, some of the songs were weak, so I've edited the playlist down, keeping only the jams.
Enjoy - (And no, they're not links, this isn't a music blog, do the work yourself you lazy bastard).

---

* The Christmas Song (Merry Christmas to You) - Nat King Cole (The whole album is epic, but this is the best, also not so Jesus-y, which is nice).

* Peace On Earth / Little Drummer Boy - Bing Crosby & David Bowie (Corny but good).

* Christmas Time - Stevie Wonder (A heartbreaker).

* Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree/Jingle Bell Rock - Brenda Lee (Classic).

* Christmas Song - Joy Zipper (Reminds me of my girl, a plus).

* 2000 Miles - The Pretenders (Best female rocker ever).

* Hazy Shade of Winter - The Bangles (Not a Christmas song, but the inclusion on Less Than Zero soundtrack, use during xmas in the film, and presence of sleigh bells qualifies it).

* Going Back to Cali - LL Cool J (See above).

* Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - Joey Ramone (Needs no explanation).

* Christmas All Over Again - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers (So good).

* Happy Xmas (War Is Over) - John & Yoko

* Endlessly - Mercury Rev (Not technically a Christmas song, but it feels like it to me).

* Wonderful Christmastime - Paul McCartney (If you don't like this there's something wrong with you).

* Christmas In Hollis - Run-DMC (Best ever).

* Christmas Wrapping - The Waitresses (2nd best).

* Chrismas Treat - Julian Casablancas (Impressive cover of a Fallon/Sanz SNL skit).

* Another Lonely Christmas - Prince (Go ahead, cry).

* Christmastime Is Here (Vocal) - Vince Guaraldi Trio (No matter how old you are).

-----

In conclusion, keep Christmas alive, say "Merry Christmas" to everyone you see....even if they don't celebrate it.
Do you ask everyone who sneezes whether they believe in a deity before you bless them?
No, so don't be a pussy and say, "happy holidays", that is unless you want the terrorists to win and the angels to die.

Stay black, talk hard, and go Lakers.

I heard the captain's gonna sign him to Jive, and that's the truth.

2010-11-01T19:57:00.000-07:00

Sean Carasov aka Captain Pissy.
RIP.

Jogger, A&R, Los Feliz local, Mopar lover, x-porn producer, once a roadie for The Clash, Beastie Boys tour manager, grumpy English fucker, and all around great dude who helped make hip-hop great when it mattered.

You will be missed by many.

Though we weren't close, I met him at a crucial time in my life and he left a big impression. We reconnected online last year after a mutual friend took his life, and sadly, it is a year and change later that I write this in his memory.

-----

Captain,

After Shawn M. passed I was trying to find you and rap about this Matt Dike project I was dreaming about. No one knew how to find you, so I lurked hard on the Interweb and used my private eye skills and finally came across your AIM address in some sketchy 4chan K-hole and added it to my buddy list. Every day your screen name said, "away", but I still sent messages, just patiently waiting for it to pop up one day.

Finally after probably a month or so, there you were, and you'll never know how stoked I was when your name finally showed as "online". I hit you and we typed for the better part of 30 minutes. We caught up and you told me how you'd spent the years since I'd seen you and I told you what was up on my end. We laughed about the onslaught of porn and racially charged words and images that popped up and overtook my computer like a fucking virus when I found an Anonymous link that you were responsible for, I told you how epic it was that you were the first of that organization to unmask yourself, and that only you would have the balls to pull something like that. You told me about Thailand, your struggles with Lyor and the music business, and most poignantly, we discussed your last days with Shawn.

You told me that you were just up the road from each other, and that you were both sick and had taken to trading meds, something you found most amusing. It brought me solace and some comfort the stories you told me of how you and Mortensen stayed close, and it was nice as one old acquaintance passed, I was back in contact with another. It is equally tragic that you both were in so much pain that you felt the need to check out the way you did. (I wonder if you both spoke of this?).

Though we were never close, it pains me to think that this is the way you wanted it to go. We met through Sophia Chang, hip-hop and music, and you walked me into some amazing situations that I'll never forget. I called Jarobi when I heard, and we both didn't know what to say, what can you say?

You were the funniest, most fucked up, craziest dude in Los Angeles. You were the King of Los Feliz before anyone even thought of moving East, the OG Mopar lover, a jogging fanatic, porn-loving, crabby and wonderful son of a bitch. You will be missed by many, and I hope you and our other Shawn are laughing together peacefully.

Lots of love,
Justin

Fuckin' blue lights, read 'em their rights, drama.

2010-08-27T00:36:00.000-07:00

Hendrix is one of those treats that you think you're gonna bum out on cause your buddy played the first two albums way too much back in the day and now you think it's all Purple Haze and all of that Axis bullshit, but when it comes down to it, if you were to throw on Electric Ladyland right now it would blow your mind.
This shot is just too good.

Finally found and downloaded the entire 1983 Topper Carew documentary that predated Breakin' AND Beat Street....Breakin' N' Enterin'.
Filmed in Los Angeles and featuring breakers in Venice Beach, at the Radiotron, and out in the streets, it features Chris "The Glove" Taylor, Ice-T, and some incredible breakdancers, among them one of my favorite crews ever, The Dominos, from Los Angeles, CA featuring Kidd Tuff, a dude who was pretty much my idol back then. Tuff was a ridiculous breaker who made the dudes from Breakin' look like Rerun from What's Happenin', and besides being a sick breaker, Tuff was also the first person to ever punch me in the face, which is pretty cool.
The soundtrack is now available on itunes, do yourself a favor and get up on this important piece of B-Boy history.

New Biltwell lid, good color, thinkin' about it.

Or the flat red. Can't decide.

Want.

Need.

Old New York City hookers are awesome, I mean, minus the whole VD, heroin and AIDS thing.

Speaking of VD.

It's official, I'm the laziest blogger ever.
Life has taken over, and child-rearing, recording an album, playing basketball, watching season after season of Friday Night Lights, writing two films and a pilot as well as trying to earn a living as a touring musician has rendered writing about shoes, motorcycles and The Hills obsolete.
I've gotta get my priorities straight.
The grey joints I've been wearing daily this summer are about to have some company.
Only 200 pairs are being sold, one to the kid.
Fingers crossed.

Just saw this old shirt that Piscitelli and Dill did.
I was both totally stoked and totally bummed that they used an image from the poster for my dad's gay biker flick, The Pink Angels, as I've been planning on doing bootleg shirts of the poster forevz. Oh well, I think I'll do it anyway, I kind of have seniority on that one.

And just in case you are wondering what movie I'm referring to...

I'll give a little shout out to my dad.....

2010-06-20T20:10:00.000-07:00

Tres Generaciones.

Sometimes being on the road is tough.
Wishing I was with my little man today.
Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there.

Who loved Popeye? Alice the goon.

2010-05-22T12:23:00.000-07:00

I recently had the pleasure of meeting Cynthia Plaster Caster.
Along with Pamela Des Barres, she is one of the most famous groupies of all time.
If you don't know how she got her nickname, you should look up her work.
I told her I had wanted to be one of her subjects since I was young.
She laughed, but didn't say no.
TBC....

Some things are classic for a reason.
Un-fadeable.

I don't like this groove, try and give me something I can croon to, catch my drift?

South Bronx, 1970's.
Total decimation, and these guys are having a conga jam to try and retain some sense of normalcy.
I was there in the late 80's and it wasn't much prettier.
Two things come to mind, the Gang Of Four Lyric, "To Hell With Poverty", and the words of Rick James, "Cocaine is a helluva drug". (Although Her-ron would have been the culprit in this era).
Domestic poverty is the one thing that will never be fully addressed in American politics, and it's a genuine tragedy.
How does the saying go,
"The measure of a society is how it treats it's poor"?

I love this guy.

The NRA needs a better publicist.

Dudes.

If you were around, then you know.
Those 3 letters sent chills up the spines of many valley kids in the early 80's.

Attention Hollywood:
Stop putting The Smiths songs in your RomComs.
You're blowing it.

FDNY.
9/11/2001
Beyond.

Somebody just booked a one-way trip to Bonerville.

Get outta my dreams, and into my car.

2010-03-10T05:49:00.000-08:00

This is not the first time this man's face has graced this blog, only this time it is with great sadness and fond remembrance of my childhood that I pay my respects.
Addiction is a motherfucker.
Rest in peace, Lucas.

We began to attack, the eggs did crack on Haze's back.

2010-02-25T16:27:00.000-08:00

An old friend, a huge talent, and an incredibly important figure, not only in the art world, but in pop culture as a whole.
If you don't know, do yourself a favor and Google my man Haze.

The greatest man alive.

2010-02-25T01:08:00.000-08:00

When trying to find a clip of Timmy Cappelo greased up and playing the sax for an audience of hacky sack playing Santa Crusties, a would be vampire and his comic book reading metrosexual younger brother, I came across what is undoubtedly the greatest thing ever produced on the interweb.

Let me clear my thrrrrrroat!

2010-01-29T14:43:00.000-08:00

I have set a goal that I will ride my bike to this event.
I wasn't able to go last year, and I heard it was epic.
My buddy Dan Druff won Best Pre-Unit, and everybody from SoCal in the moto world came out. This one promises to be even better. Check it out.
Now I just have to finish this god damn bike.

Babe Ruth.
From Northern England in the early 70's, a ruling rock band who recorded the classic break,
"The Mexican".
Essential.

The album artwork is simply incredible.

While the recorded version is my personal favorite, this is just ridiculous.

Max Cady, a total badass, and my role model tattoo-wise.
I'm not kidding.
Although I'm drawing the line at, "Loretta".

Though drastic and mean,
it really sums up how I feel when people push their vegan politics in my face.
If you don't want to eat or wear animals, fine, that's your choice, fantastic.
But don't feel like you have to tell me about it. Really.
It doesn't make you punk rock, and it doesn't make you Morrissey.
It just makes you vegan.
I don't rant about steak and ribs and how I wear leather,
so why do you have to politicize your seitan?
Cause the more you talk about it, the more it drives me to becoming Ted Nugent.

Still my dream car.
1969 Chrysler 300, though I wouldn't kick a 70' out of bed.

Saw the arabparrot at my boy DJ Adam 12's bday party at his 1985-1995 hip-hop club, Afex.
We may have made the no-fly list.

My boy Aaron Rose is kind of a fucking genius.
These are his new kicks he designed for DC.
Soon those crispy chocolate brown bastards on gonna be on these feet.

The new HD Forty Eight.
I think I'm feelin' this.
Not sure yet.
Wouldn't turn a free one down (Hint x 2),
but I'm looking forward to seeing it in person.
One thing is for sure, if I got this and took it over to Evil Spirit, we could definitely turn it into something special.

The best.

I should have covered this on the day of, but it's not about breaking the story, it's about experiencing life and writing about it, sometimes as it happens, sometimes after. For me, mostly after.
Last month we lost a man who was arguably one of the greatest writers of all time
For me, it was Nine Stories that drew me into the mind and the world of this American treasure, but in the end, Franny And Zooey still holds a special place in my heart.
If you are dating a girl and she doesn't like this book, run.

Terry and Donald.
I dig these guys a lot.
Nice to see them together in a pic.
Besides not being able to see your friends,
the only thing that sucks about living in LA is it's not New York.

Lost is back.

I'm on the one mission, to get a politician to honor or he's a goner, by the time I get to Arizona.

2010-01-18T17:49:00.000-08:00

Basic Instinct has been on cable a lot lately.
My favorite part of the flick isn't the crotch shot, it's the locations in SF.
Michael Douglas shoots almost every film there, always has.
Although I dig it, I think I like San Francisco better in the movies than in person.
On another note, I like this picture.

This was a really important album for me as a kid.
Looking back, the movie probably did more harm than good, teaching middle class white kids in middle America what was lurking on the other side of town and providing a manual for how to dress, talk, and behave like a gangster.
I'd say this Dennis Hopper classic was ground zero for the "wankster".
Speaking of Hopper, "Billy" really dissed the ole' lady with the deathbed divorce thing.
Harsh toke to swallow after 13+ years of marriage.

Husbands.
Cassavetes.
Classic.

So nice, I gave it to you twice.

These lovely brass dog bone risers are up for auction on Ebay as we speak.
I happen to be selling them.
You should buy them so I can finish my bike.

Also on ebay right now is one of my favorite bikes on the interweb.
Never seen it in person, and now I doubt I ever will, but some lucky bidder is gonna come up on this beauty.

Happy birthday, brother. Thank you.

It was December 24th on Hollis Ave. in the dark.

2009-12-25T01:13:00.000-08:00

Two things.

One -
I was informed that Justin Bobby's (If you have to ask, allow me to sigh dramatically and send you back to the last entry) - fashion cuts are from a legitimate motorcycle club out of Los Angeles. Not the Norcal MC of the same name that I mentioned, but another existing club here in town. This "source" also told me that the colors of the patches were orange and white, not red and white as I thought.

OK, so it's hard to tell in the photo. But this still leaves the issue of bottom rocker claiming Los Angeles...still a bold ass move if you ask me, but since I'm talking to myself, it seems no one is.

This source could be wrong, he could be right, I don't know, but I feel a journalistic duty to follow up when it's called for, I'm like Woodward....or Bernstein, only instead of cracking the case on Watergate and changing the course of political history and altering the fabric of America, I'm talking about a hairdresser who rides a motorcycle on a semi-scripted MTV show.

Ugh.

And two -

Merry Christmas.

May you spend it with those you love and who love you.
Though it can be a stressful, sad, reflective, depressing, and lonely time of year, it is still my favorite. I like the way people treat one another.

Like the lady who didn't know how to drive today - rather than honking and swerving around her, I simply let her drive like an asshole. That's the Christmas spirit.

I'm off to Cabo with the family for some sun, surf (hopefully), fishing, and fun.
I hear you can rent Harley's, so that might be kinda bitchin', don't think the wife will hop on back, but I'm gonna try my hardest.

For those of you hanging with family who are sick and tired of that Lawrence Welk bullshit....for those of you who have the Run DMC song and the Waitresses jam but wish you had more cool holiday music to spin, I present to you........

Justin's Awesome Christmas Mixtape

(I'm too tired to post links to the songs, but you're resourceful, you can find them.
personally would go to Amazon, then you can share the files rather than having them be write protected like they do over at itunes).

Some of these are classics, some are new, some are covers, and some just remind me of Christmas and the holidays. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do, and I hope you all have a very, merry xmas.

The Christmas Song (Merry Christmas to You) - Nat King Cole
Peace On Earth / Little Drummer Boy - Bing Crosby & David Bowie
Baby It's Cold Outside - Leon Redbone/Zooey Deschanel
Christmas Time - Stevie Wonder
Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree - Brenda Lee
Christmas Song - Joy Zipper
2000 Miles - The Pretenders
Last Christmas (Studio Version) - Jimmy Eat World
Hazy Shade of Winter - The Bangles
Going Back to Cali - LL Cool J
Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - Joey Ramone
Christmas All Over Again - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
Merry Christmas Baby (LP Version) - Otis Redding
I'll Be Your Santa, Baby - Rufus Thomas
Hey, Santa Claus - The Chesterfield Kings
Run Rudolph Run - Keith Richards / Toots & The Maytals
Jingle Bell Rock - Brenda Lee
Come On Santa - The Raveonettes
Happy Xmas (War Is Over) - The Polyphonic Spree
Little Drummer Boy - The Dandy Warhols
Endlessly - Mercury Rev
Wonderful Christmastime - Paul McCartney
Christmas In Hollis - Run-DMC
Christmas Wrapping - The Waitresses
Chrismas Treat - Julian Casablancas
Another Lonely Christmas - Prince
Christmastime Is Here (Vocal) - Vince Guaraldi Trio

Alright, stop what you're doing, cause I'm about to ruin, the image and the style that you're used to.

2009-11-26T00:11:00.000-08:00

First off, yes, I am a grown man and I watch The Hills, so let's just get that out of the way first, all judgment welcomed.

Dear Justin Bobby (Née, Justin Brescia),

While most people I know think you are a douchebag, I disagree.

I find you fascinating.

It's not the ever-present arched eyebrow, it's not the "just woke up" mumble, it's not the distant "I don't give a fuck" attitude, and it's not any of the other affectations that wow the under-20 set who tune in to watch the Paramore soundtrack intercut with Brentwood drama that passes for a television show.

What I am referring to is just the entire phenomena that IS Justin Bobby.

I for one as a heterosexual man nearing forty (four years, but who's counting), can view you from a purely academic angle, and enjoy what you bring to the show; good hair, humor, conflict in the hearts and minds of these tormented women, and what I'm sure is referred to in table readings (cause no one believes it's unscripted) board meetings, and the halls of MTV as, "that bad boy image".

To be honest, the only problem I've ever had with you was probably not even of your doing, but rather a bit of magical editing that transpired in an episode where you were surfing and you managed to take off on a wave Goofy Foot and end the ride doing an air Regular Footed. (And it wasn't switch, it was a stunt double, let's be clear).

I could tell you I don't like the frequency in which you display, as well as the choice in tattoo that you have, but hey, I lived through the 90's, and the only bad tattoo I didn't get was a tribal armband or a Chili Pepper logo, so I guess I can't say shit about the ITALIA plastered across your stomach. So that's off limits.

Basically I'm pretty much backing all your bullshit, I think it's all top-notch, I'm a fan, I look forward to a long and fruitful friendship, and if I didn't cut my own hair, I'd probably let you do it, so long as you didn't wash my hair, cause that would feel gay given the amount of writing I'm doing about you at present, dig?

But I digress.

I'm not what you'd call a hater, I'm actually here to help you.

No one minds the Harley with ape-hangers, the flaked out helmet, hell, we'll even let you have a pass on the overalls with no shirt on underneath, but when you started wearing top and bottom rockers with a center patch on your leather jacket, you just went too far, kiddo.

If you haven't had it broken down to you already, allow me to, purely in the interest of saving you a beatdown or potentially worse, cause while the guys from Maroon 5 may think it looks "bitchin", I can assure you there are some guys who hang out far from the swank locales you frequent who wouldn't find it nearly as amusing.

Right off the bat, a history lesson.

3 patch jackets are strictly for Outlaw clubs.

Period.

If you want to start a club with your homies, better to adhere to the rules of what are known as "Family" clubs, and have 1 large patch in the center of the jacket, otherwise, if you rock your patches broken down into 3 it's a violation of the code.

If you still don't know what I'm talking about, then let me expand. Top rocker = club, center patch = logo, and bottom rocker is territory.

(iffy)You could even try doing a top rocker and a center patch and see how that works out for you, but the 3 patch combo is a bold affair no matter how you slice it, and on this front you fucked up five different ways.

1st, by the design of your jacket you are claiming Los Angeles as a territory.
INCREDIBLY bold move, especially considering the heaviness of motorcycle clubs that operate in LA, and 2nd, you didn't check in with the predominant MC in the area to ask permission (one of the rules), and if you don't know who that is, you'll find out soon enough wearing the jacket.

3rd, you chose an existing club's colors for your rockers.
This one is actually kind of funny, because if I have to tell you whose colors red and white are, then you may be in more trouble than I thought.
4th, not only are you going to offend the guys who wear those colors you adopted, but ALSO the guys who don't like the guys who wear those colors on their cuts.
Kind of a lose lose situation if you know what I mean.
And finally, 5th, there ALREADY IS a Hooligans MC, based in NorCal, so unless you started a Los Angeles chapter, I guess it's a case of, "whoops".

Of course, I could be wrong.
There might be a heavy MC rolling the streets that I've just never heard of.
One that not only got the green light on flying Los Angeles on the bottom rocker, but also got OK'd to run red and white.
It could be, it's not like I'm the authority on such things.

The whole thing could probably be avoided if you changed the color of the rockers and eliminated the MC on the back, then you could claim ignorance when confronted as to why you were claiming "their" city as your own. But having the MC makes it a Motorcycle Club that operates in the city designated by the bottom rocker, and being that you ride a bike and aren't just some d-bag getting bottle service at Playhouse trying to look hard, that would be tough to play dumb while hanging from your apes at a stoplight.

If I were you, I'd make it a one-patch with the logo in the center and the name incorporated into the design, not as a separate rocker, and then take out the city altogether, but hey, that's just me, I like waking up in the morning and going to sleep at night.

Cause while the girls from Laguna and Stacey the bartender probably dig it, I think you'll find that if you ride with it on outside of West Hollywood, Sunset Plaza, and the occasional Neptune's Net run, you may encounter dudes that won't be nearly as stoked as Kristen.

So you think that hip-hop had it's start out in Queensbridge?

2009-11-10T02:35:00.000-08:00

My son will never believe that the New York he will come to know could have ever looked like this.

Mothership connection, getting girls affection, if your life needs correction, don't follow my direction.

2009-10-28T00:14:00.000-07:00

If you Google "Tiny", this picture comes up.
Not what I was looking for to help me shorten a web address.

A friend just scored this guitar.
The Hohner Prinz.
I always thought the little purple guy played an old Fender Esquire like the boss, but it turns out it's actually what used to be a relatively cheap Tele copy until Prince collectors jacked up the price and made them increasingly hard to come by.
The original guitar is called the H.S. Anderson "Mad Cat", but after Prince made it famous circa "Controversy", "1999" and most famously in the film "Purple Rain", Cort released it as "The Prinz", followed by Hohner's version, "TE Prinz", but with a different headstock after Fender threatened a lawsuit.
I'm sure Prince has a grip of these just sitting in some velvet covered room collecting dust, but unless I meet a great 2nd story man I'll have to wait till some geek who doesn't realize what he has decides he wants to clean out his garage on ebay.

Crack kills.

Please?

I've never been a particularly huge Smashing Pumpkins fan.
I liked Gish, and I kind of love Siamese Dream, and if hard pressed, I guess there were some good songs after that, though no whole album moved me after the first two, the thing is my gripe has always been his predilection for the screaming voice and the quiet, screechy, cracking voice that seemed to dominate everything after.
My friend is working with him right now and said he was the sweetest guy you'd ever want to meet. She and a few other girls I know have been hanging with him a lot while he's been recording, they've been taking some pretty great photos and documenting the recording in a way that's pretty interesting and revealing, especially for a guy so secretive.
Billy posted this on Twitter a few weeks ago with a caption that explained how this was THE (emphasis his) amp he had recorded Gish and Siamese Dream with.
Now I'm not fanboy, but I have to say, if there's one thing that was always bullet proof, it was his guitar playing and in particular, his tone.
Sometimes an amp looks so good you know it's gonna sound good, like the Marshall JCM 800 head on cover of Fugazi's Red Medicine. This amp is one of those. It also made me wanna drag mine into the control room and plug it in.

No one ever talked about how weird he held his mouth. If you don't believe me, watch The Lost Boys in the scene where he meets the Frog brothers in the comic shop and says "Lex Luthor hadn't even been intro-DEUCED".

Speaking of deuce - (And I swear I didn't even remember this picture followed, so no pun intended) - I recently found out that my friend and landlord is selling the house we live in, so I have to move. I have begun to look into buying with my wife.
One house that was listed on The MLS actually had this picture posted in it's listing.
Cause nothing says "Buy This House" like a used quarter-roll of toilet paper.

And if you don't know, now you know.

2009-10-16T23:21:00.000-07:00

GVSB.
Top 10 bands ever.
I have seen them on many occasions, sometimes in small venues pressed up against the front of the stage staring up from the monitors like a little girl, sometimes in larger venues, and once I even had the pleasure of opening up for them at the Troubador.
Seriously one of the most underrated bands of all time. Alexis is a monster drummer, Johnny Temple lays down the heaviest basslines since the Jesus Lizard, Scott McCloud is like a younger Peter Weller on cool pills, and Eli is the only person I've ever seen "rock out" on the keyboards without looking like a fey Thomas Dolby.
The coolest band ever. Period.

This pictures says a lot.
Growing up in LA, it takes a lot to make me fan out on someone.
Meeting T.A. was one of those times, and what made it even weirder was that he came up to me.
I won't reveal the circumstances, but I will tell you this; sometimes I still trip out that I know this dude. Total legend, total killer, and I want that surfboard bad.

As a black man, as a student of cinema, and as a guy who appreciates style, I am embarrassed to report that after 36 years of living and having had the soundtrack on vinyl for nearly as long, I have finally seen what is truly one of the greatest films of all time - The Mack.
Max Julien is now my hero on every level.
Humbled.

This picture sums up the feeling of a project I'm currently writing.
The "Rio" photo is obviously his most famous, but to me this Nagel has a lot of soul.

Douchebag.

Let's play tummy-sticks.

I'm a Zulu, yes a true blue, Red Alert is with the poo-poo.

2009-10-08T12:40:00.000-07:00

Medallion carrying member.

I've posted these before, and I'm begging you, what was this colorway called, who has a pair, and why aren't they on my doorstep.
Help.

Keepin' your head above water, making a wave if you can.

Somebody actually made this with the knowledge that there is a market for it.

My wife painted these ages ago on leather panels for a Los Angeles designer who changed his name from Joel to Romulus. My wife is amazing.

Take a picture, it'll last longer.

This was a part of my past.

Jen from Gnarlitude blogged about this ages ago, but I still don't have one. Erik, Bueller, anyone?

The king.

If you see this, bail.

Before founding the Universal Zulu Nation, Afrika Bambatta was warlord of the Bronx River's 10th division of the Black Spades, one of the most notorious and hard hitting gangs of New York City whose place in hip-hop history can't be overstated, as they helped keep the Bronx safe for it's residents and supported the emerging hip-hop community by providing security at the parties so the DJ's could play without incident.
Along with several other gangs, the Spades attended the Hoe Avenue peace meeting that was fictionalized in The Warriors as the meeting called by Cyrus and the Riffs.

See I'm programmed to slam, winter, summer, spring or fall.

2009-10-08T01:09:00.000-07:00

Nobody was as cool as Travolta in the 70's.

Except maybe the dude holding this glow stick.

Or Robert DeGrimston.

Rime/Jersey Joe.
Known Gallery.
Act like you know.

Top 5.
And I saw it performed live before the album came out.
Universal Amphitheater, Dope Jam Tour.
Age has it's benefits, bitches.

Best shoe ever.
The photo doesn't even do it justice.
A black canvas wino with brown gum rubber sole.
Totally gangster.
Even with a waffle-stomping size 12 like mine it doesn't look too big or cumbersome.
Thin, look great when pants fall on them, light, but not sketchy to skate in...basically, perfect.
The details, from the stitching, to the DIXON on the back all make it totally incredible.

For me, the real indicator of a great piece of clothing or shoe is when I first try it on, I immediately want an extra one to store in the closet for when I thrash the one I'll be wearing everyday.

I don't wear baseball hats, but if I did, I'd wear this.
If you have one, give it to me.

The best part of coming home from tour.

What planet? What channel? What station? Afrika from the Zulu Nation.

2009-09-24T13:45:00.000-07:00

Once again I've let it go too long without posting. But in this instance I have an excuse, I've been touring like a madman behind a new EP my band released.

Since we last spoke I've been to - Houston, San Antonio, Dallas, Austin, New Orleans, Tallahassee, Jacksonville, Ft. Lauderdale, Orlando, Atlanta, Nashville, D.C., NYC, Philly, Clifton Park, and Montreal.

At the moment I am typing this from my hotel room in Toronto, and after tomorrow's show in town we'll be heading to Detroit, Louisville, Chicago, Lawrence, and Denver.

Gnarly.

It's been fun as shit, the kids have been coming and showing the love, and I'm lucky to have such a good job; I can't complain.

I'm tired, but it's the good kind - hard work, sweat, playing rock and roll, and occasionally skateboarding, like here at the 6th St. Skatepark in Nashville.

If you find yourself in there, check it, it's connected to an all-ages venue called Rocket Town, the people who run it are cool, and the locals are friendly.

After our show I wanted to take a run before the bus left, and since they enforced the helmet rule, I had to buy one, but the spitfire gloves I scored in the shop made it worth it.

Adam 12 took some shots of me shredding in show clothes (note the tour laminate giving good air flair)

The gloves that made it worth buying the helmet.

OK.

Since it's been a while since we last spoke, this is not going to have the full impact, as it's going to seem bandwagon-esque, due to it's late arrival.

But I'm gonna go ahead and say it: SOA is the best show on TV. Period.

Well, maybe not BEST, as I recently, (read: TODAY) became ob'd with Mad Men, but SOA is definitely the most exciting show on TV.

I'm not gonna say I watched it from the beginning of the first season, cause that would be a lie.

I thought the posters looked gay, (by the way, I'm taking that word back to it's schoolyard meaning, deal with it).

I mean, NO ONE thought it looked good when the posters first went up. But between seasons I caught an episode and fell in love instantly.

I then bought the season on itunes and sat down for the next 4 days and watched the whole thing with my wife, and we were hooked.

I tried spreading the gospel and getting friends into it, but no one was biting, everyone who was into the MC world thought it was weak, and those who didn't know anything about bikes or the culture thought it would be too inside.

Still, I persisted, and told anyone who would listen about how epic this show was and when I wasn't Tweeting about it or posting something on my Facebook, I was hard-selling it to the unconverted like a snake oil salesman.

Come premiere night of Season Two it seems some people listened, cause now everyone who checked it out was telling me how sick it was. Granted, it was one of the most craze episodes of TV ever, let alone a record breaking season premiere for cable television, but the point is, those who doubted were now converts and suddenly I was the go-to guy to explain what was what and recap season 1 for the newly initiated.

I have done everything but rename my son Jax and write a spec script to submit to Kurt Sutter (debating doing so), but I digress.

While you could definitely nitpick it to death about authenticity, the point remains, it's fucking good television.

It would be lazy to call it The Soprano's set in the MC world, but I have even done so when someone didn't get the, "Hamlet set in the Norcal MC world" reference. Basically, it's a family drama punctuated by extreme violence that has you laughing at the most inappropriate shit, in the end, it's just it's own thing.

If you haven't seen it yet, give in, you'll be hooked, if you're hating on it, it's your loss, and if you are already as addicted as me, I feel sorry for you.

That said, anyone wearing the rockers you can buy on ebay, is just Gary with a silent R.

You watch the show long enough, even a vintage freak like me starts dreaming of an old FXR.

Or even better, a push button, dependable, blacked out Street Bob.

Or the bike Jax Teller himself rides; a nice Super Glide.

(I've already reached out to Harley Davidson to see if they'd like to sponsor me and kick me a bike at a discount, you know, sort of like the Emerica wild ride thing, except instead of being a professional skateboarder, I'm a mediocre skateboarder and a singer in a rock band, kind of a good deal for them if you ask me. Still waiting to hear back.)

My boy Yosi Sergant was just at the center of a huge controversy that wasn't really one until Glen Beck made it so.

Yosi is one of my best friends, a stellar human being, selfless, devoted, kind, good hearted, and just blazing awesome 24/7, so it was a shame that an entertainment personality who has enough vapid followers to matter was able to stir up such a hoopla about so very little.

Yosi was very much responsible for this little poster you may have seen before.

(If you think Obama's a socialist who's taking your guns that's cool, you're entitled to be wrong, I'm just talking about my friend.)

On a lighter note, at a Chik-Fil-A in the great state of Texas, this kid was trying to watch me drop a deuce.

Thankfully Adam 12 caught him in the act.

This kid's future is fucked, and it ain't' the president's fault.

From fucked future to fucked past.

The 70's.

The other day I was at County USC medical center visiting one of my dearest friends who was injured in a motorcycle accident. (Mr. Michael Barragan of Evil Spirit Engineering who you may remember from my earlier posts as the man who's building my bike with me. He's recovering and doing well but your thoughts would still be appreciated, plus I'm sure we'll be having a benefit of some sort, so stay tuned - side note, you want to see why everyone needs health insurance, go to County USC Hospital)...and while waiting for visiting hours outside I was approached by a skinny, frail, aging gang member who was asking to buy a cigarette. I don't smoke, but my boy gave him one, and as he reached out his thin, heavily tattooed arm with an enormous abscess, I noticed a tattoo of a particularly gnarly prison gang on his arm.

Point being, that guy was hardcore.

When I was a kid, this was marketed as hardcore.

This on the other hand, scared the shit out of me.

Even though I knew the Van Patten kid from spending my summers in Malibu, this was frightening.

Gone was the cute, eye batting, ball playing Salami from The White Shadow.

Here was a vision of the not-so-distant future in which a bunch of pretty punkers who would never make it in a Penelope Spheeris movie were unleashed on an unsuspecting school, teacher, and his wife.

I mean, when the punkers are raping the teacher's wife, things have gone too far.

I haven't seen it in ages, but it's been recently re-released on DVD, and I'm gonna be it holds up.

And though I'd love for just one post of mine to NOT contain a memorial to a friend or hero who died, it is with great sadness that I say goodbye to one of the good ones.

JJ Klein.

I was unable to make the memorial service, as I was on the road, but she was a sweetheart, funny as hell, a rockin' drummer, cute as a button, a nice Jewish girl, and taken way too young.

RIP

I am a poet, you try to show it, yet blow it.

2009-09-14T00:21:00.000-07:00

So many deaths.

Sure, it's always happening, but this year there were many.

Ironic, considering Jim's most famous song.

One of my favorite pieces of vinyl.

"And Eddie I miss you more than all the others, and I salute you, brother."

New york, New York, big city of dreams, but everything in New York ain't always what it seems.

2009-08-28T22:44:00.000-07:00

Philly's finest.

I’ll keep this brief, which is a rarity if you know me.

I must have known Adam for over 20 years, and this is what I know:

He was a solid, dependable, real motherfucker in a town full of people who can be anything but.

He repped his hometown of Philly to the fullest.

He was passionate about hip-hop, almost to the point of fighting words if you said something he disagreed with.

He loved DJ’s and the DJ culture, especially those who created it, came before, and those who kept it alive.

On a personal level, he was just a total sweetheart and one of the homies, everyone loved him, he was that kind of guy.

He was a sober man who cared deeply about his personal recovery from drugs and alcohol and was always there for anyone in need…. I’ve seen it.

He was a guy who worked his way from the ground up, from playing the smallest spots, to owning the biggest, from aspiring DJ to one of the most technically gifted in the game. He became a showman who rocked parties, and truly the first of the new wave of American superstar DJ’s who would become the new rock stars.

He could be arrogant, hot headed, and excitable, but it all came from a good place, cause though I didn’t know him well in the last years of his life, it always seemed to me that he was still the insecure yet absolutely adorable fat kid who just wanted everyone to know how dope he was.

I was coming up as an MC when he was first DJ’ing and there were many times in the early 90’s and sometimes much more recently when I’d walk into a club and he’d throw on an old song of mine, to which I’d cover my face in half-embarrassment and he’d laugh and hold up the album cover for me and the room to see.

He’d always ask for copies and I’d give him rarities and remixes, mainly because I knew he was the type of friend who genuinely got stoked when his friends were doing their thing…not to mention he was a collector.

I remember so clearly the days coming up in the LA scene with him, Scotty Caan, The Alchemist, Evidence, Seth, Ethan B, Milla, Balthazar, Corky, Jenny Lewis, and so many other kids just having a blast and running this town.

I will especially never forget when we were filming a music video for a song of mine and he came down to support and ended up being in the crowd scene, jumping up and down with his fist in the air with a big smile across his face. I sometimes watch it on youtube and crack up at how far we’ve come.

But most of all I will remember him in that apartment on La Cienega, bent over the turntables for hours practicing his chops, showing me transforming tricks with his fingers so fast I couldn’t believe, cutting the record to say his DJ name, and armed with the conviction and passion of someone with something to prove…he wanted to be the best. And some would argue he succeeded.

I don't even know if I'd seen him since the plane crash that nearly took his life less than a year ago, but I was amazed at how he recovered and seemed to live his life with a renewed vigor and passion, facing his fears head-on, which only serves as an even greater tragedy that after all he’d been through he was still taken from us much too soon.

Since the crash he played Coachella, donned a Daft Punk helmet, rocked thousands, both by himself and with Travis Barker, filmed a TV show, made a cameo in Iron Man 2, continued his work with his management company, Deckstar, and threw out the first pitch at a Mets game.

Not bad.

He was rich to the point of not having to work, and living out his dreams like a man with a 2^nd chance, but he was also still hustling and busting his ass like the chubby kid with something to prove spinning in the booth at The Dragonfly so many years ago.

For me personally it’s a reminder that while it may seem like someone has everything, you never really know what’s going on inside someone else’s skin.

I’m not saying anything about his death, to that I cannot speak, as I don’t know the circumstances, but what I do know about is his life.

My only hope is that we can use this platform of technology to spread love rather than sensationalism and speculation.

Whatever facts come out won’t take away from the things he spent years of his life dedicated to, opening doors for himself as well as others along the way-

DJ's and the art of DJ'ing, hip-hop, and recovery.

Oh, and the shoes….so many fucking shoes.

There will be rumor and gossip, there will be sadness and mourning, and there will be the peculiar horror show that seems native to Los Angeles, a one-upmanship of sorrow in a sort of contest to see who can cry harder, appear sadder, grieve longer, or claim a closer friendship to the one who passed. Though it sounds cynical, in a town so celebrity obsessed, in a time when so many are passing, this type of thing is inevitable, and in it’s own strange way it’s a tribute.

But the truth is this. It is all of our loss, first to his family, then to his friends, then to his cities, both Philly and LA, and lastly to the culture he helped build upon, the culture of DJ’ing and the culture of hip hop.

He truly was an amazing man who was taken way, way too soon.

I love you, AMG.

RIP

I guess I couldn't keep it brief.

Tonight the Palms hotel and casino pays their respects to our dear friend.

I nominated my DJ the president.

2009-08-25T22:51:00.000-07:00

Rest In Peace.

One of the greats.

End of a dynasty.

Single-handed, I ain't with that band stuff, cause Cee'll scratch a record like flakes of dandruff.

2009-08-23T00:40:00.000-07:00

Apparently this is Dusty.

She will fuck you up.

Takin' out you suckas and you don't know how I did it

2009-08-19T00:45:00.000-07:00

These guys seem to have a good thing goin' on.

Never met em, don't know em, but between seeing their crew at the swap, their bikes in Dice© and on their blog, and from what mutual friends have told me I've gotta say, they got class.

They surf, skate, and moto. The whole deal. No posing.

http://www.czombieblog.com/

Dunno if this is their shop, or a friend's, either way, I'm sure it'll be happening.

I want this so bad it actually hurts.

I was hipped to this by my beautiful and much cooler than me wife.

If you don't know about this, I ain't gonna tell you until our print is hanging in the house.

This was posted somewhere as an HA photo shoot.

I almost called bullshit as it looks too fuckin' good and pro-shot, until I saw what I'm guessing is Terry The Tramp wearing glasses and kneeling. I think it's legit.

Anyone?

This was from a New York Times style section piece in 2008.

It's a shot by Bob Carlos Clarke, an amazing Irish photographer who died in 2006.

Again, this was a shot I didn't believe was legit, (mainly as it's labeled Hells Angels 1973 and by that time there were no female patch holding members - not that these girls are wearing cuts, but still, it's calling them Angels, not their girls.)

It's probably a group of ol' ladies posing on their own bikes, as it's doubtful any members would be rocking a chopped Trump Trophy like mine.

This could be something that was staged today, that's how fucking amazing the subjects and photo are.

R.I.P, Mr. Clarke, nice work.

I'm now rethinking my bike for the 49th time.

Asshole.

Can it be that it was all so simple then?

2009-08-17T14:51:00.000-07:00

If AIR was an American band, this is what they would sound like.

It all makes so much sense now.

Little Darlings. Though it missed the 70's by a few months, I think it embodies the feeling of the late 70's more than the early 80's, which is more Meatballs.

A staple of the era for teen girls, and a dream flick for young boys who like myself were unaware that the boyish charm exuding from Kristy McNichol was hardcore lesbianism.

As former hottest chick of the decade Jodie was going wild in the streets of L.A. in Foxes, Tatum had gone from cute as a button tween playing for the Bears, to hottest chick on the screen who would later give even her father inappropriate wood.

For you trivia geeks, Cynthia Nixon, famous for being a cast member in the most horrible thing to ever happen to television which almost single-handedly ruined the way women think, shop, and speak - Sex And The City, is pictured just to the left of Kristy Mc.

And in the back row center is Alexa Kenin, a face you may recognize from numerous after school specials, Gimme A Break, Facts Of Life, and most famously as one of the mean rich girls who gave Andie a hard time in Pretty In Pink.

Tragically, she was murdered in her Manhattan apartment by her ex-boyfriend in 1986.

Pretty In Pink was dedicated to her memory.

On a lighter note, who's the chesty fox to her right?

Actually, strike that. I'm sure she's married with fat kids, has cankles and wears gunt jeans while bargain hunting grape drink at Big Lots!.

The real question is who's the smiley girl with the jew-fro in the back?

She's probably hot as shit now, living in Fort Greene and rocking the Stevie Nicks 2009 look, replete with feathers, ankh necklace, headband and whose sangria demeanor keeps her from being overly discriminative about who gets to see The Vajj.

It's always the sleeper, never the one you expect.

Though it seems like a shot snapped in the basement of 54, this is actually a living person blazing awesome in the present day.

Malik Pointer.

Photo gaffled from Geoff Moore's fb page.

Say peace to cats who rock mack knowledge knowledgists, street astrologists, light up the mic, God, knowledge this.

2009-08-12T21:25:00.000-07:00

RIP Andy Kessler

One of the godfathers of NYC skating, and an all around nice dude.

I only met him once but he was very close with a dear friend of mine and helped her out a lot, and for that I am thankful.

He will be missed.

If you don't know who he is, it's a perfect excuse to check out an incredible documentary featuring the man.

It's called From Deathbowl To Downtown, directed by Coan Nichols and Rick Charnoski, two guys that make raw ass skateboarding films. (With music supervision from my boy Sam Velde of Night Horse and Bluebird fame).

It's dropping on DVD Sept. 15th, so go support and pay your respects to a legend in the process.

Charging.

And if you don't know, now you know.

When I first started getting into graf there were a few people who opened the door for me in one way or another. In 7th grade Mach One used to draw on paper and show me blackbook pieces in class and at lunch. He was probably the gateway to the culture of graf besides breakdancing and hip hop, both of which I was already involved in. He told me about his stoner gang, MLS, "Mota Locos" and his graf crew, KGB, Kids Gone Bad, and I thought it was the coolest shit I'd ever heard. He was also a surfer and stood out like a sore thumb at the posh prep school we attended in the valley. Mach was into cooler shit than anyone, the thing was, all the Less Than Zero rich kids didn't get it.....but I did.

He went on to do most of the graf for the film "Colors", and is now an accomplished artist.

Later in life I became close friends with a bunch of his crew from back in the day, all KGB, MLS, LADS dudes.

Probably the second dude to really hook me up was a guy named Power. This was before he started the first legit graffiti mag in the world, Can Control. It was a strange set of circumstances that hooked us up, but basically, my dad's secretary (back when you could use that term without hassle) was a super cool indie rock girl named Sarah. She was mad cool and we always got along great.

One day when Power was visiting the office he must have started talking to my dad and found out I was ob'd with graf, cause the next thing I know, dad comes home with a piece Power did for me on paper, it was of my name, and had a Mickey Mouse character in the back (I was like 13, but the point was it was a burner).

I finally met him in person and thanked him for the piece, which by now was on my wall. He came over to my crib one day and was gonna help me throw a fresh coat of white paint on the back of my garage, as my parents said we could do whatever we wanted on the back of it.

This was huge, I now had my own private yard. So Power comes over, and before we can even get out the Krylon, I cut my finger down to the bone trying to pry open a huge tub of white house paint. (still have the scar to prove it).

Total drag. Power bailed, dad took me to the E.R., and we never got to paint my garage. (I did for years to come, but that's another story). I was bummed we didn't get to hit up the garage, but that feeling didn't last, cause as soon as my index finger was ready to hit a tester's tip, he took me out bombing for real, this time at the legendary Belmont Tunnel.

To give some back story, I had tagged a bit with my boys, mostly Flash UTI, Kaze, Master UTI, and Esk, but I hadn't done an illegal piece yet, just throw-ups and tags, so for a kid who was like 13, going to the most insane yard in all of L.A. in what at the time seemed like the sketchiest hood ever, was just beyond.

So Power and I met up with Duke, another legend, and we went to it. I had a little piece folded up in my pocket that was wack as fuck, but it didn't matter, cause I was gonna do it for real, my first piece, in one of the heaviest yards in the city....craze.

So Duke busts a piece of his name in the style of the Coke© font, Power does one of his usual burners, curvy lines, clean outline, epic, and to the left of them, teeny-bopper Justin does a little "RDL" in white with red outline (we all shared paint).

Embarrassing to say, but at the time, Riddler was my tag, and the best I could come up with for an abbreviation was that.

Yeah, I know.

Anyway, Power dedicates his piece to me as Just66 (just as he would later give me a shout out in one of the first ever issues of Can Control in the thank yous), Duke makes me feel like we're not going to die being in this heavy cholo hood (he was down with everyone on the east side and as an ex-banger, no one would fuck with him), and I do my first illegal, wack...yes, but nevertheless it was done in the company of giants....literally actually, as it was half the height of the other two pieces.

And if you look in the back of The History Of Los Angeles Graffiti on page 338 you will see the Duke and Power pieces, and to the left, just out of frame cropped out onto the cutting room floor, is the edge of yours truly's first ever illegal burner, thick sketchy outline, no control, bad style, and one of the last times I tagged that name on a piece, as even I knew the name was busted and quickly changed it up.

I never saw Duke again, Power and I lost touch, and my dad's "executive assistant", Sarah broke up with Power and went on to work at one of the coolest record stores in L.A. history - Record Trader, at the northwest corner of Melrose and Spaulding. Many of the employees from this spot went on to work at Aaron's, Penny Lane, and later Amoeba, but this was THE spot back in the day. Sarah and the crew sold me many pieces of vinyl which I would sample and turn into hip-hop beats, and this was one of the first places where you could go and trade in your old CD's for cash or trade (I lived on this, thank you staff of Record Trader).

But I digress.

Soon after I was introduced to the Woodman/Oxnard yard by Else and Dash 2000 (both of whom lived blocks away and claimed ownership of the yard, but that's another story), and started spending mad time there with the aforementioned UTI's, as well as random mobbing with cats like Sec, Miner, Lerk, Skar, and my road dog at the time, Pike, with whom I'd tag all city and hit spots like the Motor Yard, the old Santa Monica Blvd/Crescent Heights yard, the 405 near the Sunset Blvd overpass, and so many other spots my frazzled brain can't even remember.

There were other writers who came to be equally as influential in other ways, such as Rise, Rev, Relm, and Phyn, plus those I actually kicked it with such as Serf, Wise, and Rage, all from The Chosen Few, TCF, but it was Power who really sparked the fire that got me into it, and for that I thank him, cause 23 years later I'm still in love with graffiti, and I feel lucky to have shared some history with a few of the guys who helped make it into what I believe to be the city that spawned the greatest graffiti artists of all time.

Period.

(I'm hunting for some better pix of Power's stuff, for now here's what I could find...apologies).

My favorite piece running right now.

It's funny, coming up I was so into Rise that I almost didn't like Risk by default. Even though I grew up checking him out on the walls, in the books, and knowing he helped create the L.A. graf movement, I guess the rivalry and tension between the two of them and their crews just got the better of me like a kid rooting for his home team in the championships.

But now that time's gone by, I have to admit it....straight up, Risk is the best.

At the time maybe the only dudes CLOSE were Dream from SMD, Charlie DTK, and some of the New York cats, and later maybe Mear, but it's all so subjective and debatable.

But you know what? Not really. He was the man.

And when it comes down to it, he helped start it, he's still doing it, and he's still running it.

It's nice to look at it with some distance and perspective now and to really be able to give it up for what he is...

King.

Risky - Sever, MSK.

I jacked this from someone on Facebook, forget who. Doesn't matter, I don't scan, I jack and write awesome, you find the photos, OK?

Sorry. Get over it.

Scott Oster, Christian Hosoi, Cesario "Block" Montano, Vince "back off Warchild" Klyne, and some other random Hosoi skate dudes at the legendary Wallows. (Yes, that epic ditch as featured in the magnum opus, "Animal Chin")

I was so jealous when Brunetti started rocking the SLA flag in his shit for FUCT. I've always been super into the whole Hearst affair and the symbolism of these freaks.

When I ask, "is this the best picture ever?", you say, "fuck yeah!"

OK, it's been a long time coming, but here's some pictures of where my bike, "Black Jesus" - is currently at.

The pipes are mounted, the front end is rebuilt, there's sick new tires on my janky wobbles-gallobles wheels, and the bars and awesome headlight (I WILL pay you, Beans) are in mock-up mode, but I have to say, this thing is fucking aggressive and I'm feeling it like an extra large Diet Coke© with Jack In The Box tacos.

Don't mind the lame tilt on the bars, just goofing around and wanted a good angle to see the dog bones and Max Schaaf grips. But angle aside, I'm pretty stoked on the bar configuration I mashed together. Somewhere between drags on risers, Z's, and some weird shit that happened by accident. In any event, I'm down like brown.

What?

Don't act like you don't love Wham!

I for one remember when this read, "Wham UK!", as they had to add the country of origin to avoid a lawsuit with an American band (Who the entire world NEVER heard from before or after, so who's laughing now, dick fucks?).

They soon dropped the UK and their sense of fashion for slogan shirts and feathered hair, but I will always remember them like this.

Gay as shit and fucking awesome in all their Club Tropicana glory.

This should be a Nike ad.

File under: Wow.

If you were to visit Dinah's chicken on San Fernando Blvd., these will greet you as you enter.

Bowie came to the beach with mom and dad the other day.

I asked him to give her a kiss.

When I finished surfing, I explained to him how it worked.

He got it.

Young Truman Capote sure was cool before the hat and the weird.

Amazing cover art, totally indicative of a time and place in mid-eighties Los Angeles.

I absolutely love that period in just about everything, specifically as it pertains to L.A.

Besides coming on the heels of his "sex tape" scandal (before they were commonplace and almost mandatory on every actor's imdb resume), this film also featured Lisa Zane, and for once Spader didn't play the heavy or the creep.

This film was not nominated for an Academy Award©.

500cc Tiger.

Shampoo.

There's a theme at work, I swear.

Lee Grant. There were few women sexier and better looking than she was in her prime.

Co-star and Sit-In alum, Goldie Hawn. Totally underrated in the category of beautiful women.

Jesus. 80's paparazzi pics were so much cooler. Lilo could never hold a candle or a coke spoon to this sort of town-car hangover sexy-messness.

I love her.

At least she settled down with a dude who wasn't a total douchebag.

I mean, Snake Plisskin, Nick Frescia, Cash....Jack Burton?

Dude is alright with me.

I almost don't even wanna tell you who this is cause I don't need you drooling over my favorite 60's crush.

Joanna Pettet.

Look it up, I'm not telling you shit, you fuck.

Awww, so fucking cute.

Pre-Rosemary, pre Frank Sinatra's ritual abuse, and pre Bat-Shit-Crazy throwing around wild unfounded accusations of child molestation because her longtime boyfriend was doing the nasty with her adopted daughter (who hated Mia enough to bone, fall in love with, marry, and play mother to her step dad, Woody).

Good hair too.

I like white girls.

Rambo.

Rambone.

Sorry, couldn't resist.

Now when you watch Rocky, Copland, or Death Race 2000, you're gonna think about his penis.

They claim we're products from the bottom of hell.

2009-07-26T20:29:00.000-07:00

While looking for a shoulder holster on ebay and I came across this.

File under: Wow.

Heath Kirchart. Total legend, and the guy responsible for so many young skateboarders riding Harleys, whether on the Emerica tours or otherwise.

The downturned pipes in wrap look super evil and makes me wanna punch things.

I was gonna caption this, "killing it on 4 wheels or 2", but that would be pretty gay.

Too late.

Poached from Epicly later'd, thanks Patrick.

It's been a long time coming, and after months of scouring, many lost auctions and one brutally hot afternoon at the LBC swap, I have finally scored the chrome dog bones I've been lusting after.

For running on 1" bars, 3.5" rise, and most importantly, either the cleanest N.O.S. I've ever seen, or someone is repro'ing these hecka perf. Either way, I'm into it.

And while I've been typing, I also won these.

For 7/8" bars (which is what I currently have, but I wanted to get the 1" setup pictured above just in case I wanted to make custom bars, in which case I'd do 1" cause they look and feel more aggressive and solid).

These are a 4" rise, which would look sick with the ill headlight I'm probably gonna run. (I still owe you for that one, Beans, I haven't forgot).

So if you were one of the 100+ schmos watching either set of these today and wondered where they went, I say to you, "refresh" suckas. I ate shit on the swap-meet-killer known as ebay for months, and today was my time to shine, so bite the weenie - with relish.

These are genuine Flanders, the others, not so sure, but I care about as much as a sushi chef works on Monday.

But fear not, whichever pair I don't use will be sold along with some other bullshit I've been stockpiling that I don't need, so there you go, as Grand Puba once said and JT reiterated, "what goes around comes back around again."

Got gear I wear, for everyday, boutiques from France to the USA.

2009-07-24T22:48:00.000-07:00

This isn't gonna be a heavy post, so I will save the real talk on Dash for another post along with the hundreds of amazing photos I've been amassing.

Purple supplement book.

Score.

Very happy, it's my anniversary present to myself.

Along with these beautiful black, Jason Jessee Vans Syndicate joints that were so me that my boy Casey at Val Surf called to ask my size the moment they arrived. He was right.

Amazing.

The moto/workboot hook-eyelets are a nice touch.

A little too, Waingro and "Hey brother", but I like it.

The notch back upper = super cozy skating and riding.

In other Killing It news, Eric Brunetti over at Fuct and SSDD is pretty much the most inspiring dude out there right now, in my not so humble opinion.

Most of this stuff has been around for a minute, but I still get pumped every time I peep it, and now the obsession has bubbled over and I just had to hit him up and get my hands on some.

I've always been more into the whole Patty Hearst thing than the Manson girl trip. Maybe I'm a softy, but rich girl newspaper heir turned black revolutionary bank robbing moll is a lot sexier than scumbag Midwest hippie drifter chick with a dirty party vadge killing innocent people.

I dunno, call me crazy.

The Nam patch thing is epic.

And the Vanishing point name tag and AMA vs. 1% patch riff is genius.

And finally, while my lovely wife was picking out her anniversary presents at Panty Raid, I stumbled upon an interesting boutique I'd never seen before on Hillhurst, Steven Alan. Lots of good plaid, a few seersucker pieces, the occasional pair of pants, but mostly just really nice shirts with great cuts.

Thanks baby, it's my new favorite everyday shirt. Happy 2nd anniversary!

When some clown jumps up to get beat down, broken down to his very last compound...

2009-07-24T02:05:00.000-07:00

The Filthy Few. A shot you don't always see. I recently finished Hell's Angel, if you haven't read it, I highly suggest you do so, even if you don't ride a motorcycle.

Sonny's knuckle. I love everything about this bike.

Like father, like son. Cool as shit, yeah, I said it, what, jealous?

The mighty TSL. Running shit.

I can't think of anything I need more.

Talk about need, holy shit, it's one size fits all, a woman's piece, kind of over the top, and way too fucking expensive, but still I COVET this. The only thing that would kind ease the pain would be to find a Grey Ant shoulder holster, but I cannot find one for the life of me, and I even called my friends over there just to make sure there weren't any dead stock sitting around with my name on it. After doing some Googling and snooping around on various sites I actually found a pic of this on Jen's blog, Gnarlitude, which I usually check up on, but I must have missed the entry with this joint. In any event, I have someone on the case trying to score one for me, translation = free, cause over a G for a women's purse/vest is a little pricey when I can get a nice leather Glock shoulder holster for about a buck fifty and scare people in the process.

Alexander Wang, you have me jonesing for your shit like my wife, and she has a vagina, go to hell.

File under "great idea!", and , "It's about time!" - silver glitter capsules to make shiny poop. Epic.

I have a tremendous amount of respect for these dudes. And while I am a mild mannered pussy from the suburbs of the valley, I totally dig on their whole trip. Long live the black biker set.

I can't even begin to tell you the horror story that has been the last few days of tire research and shopping. I'll spare you the details, as it's been like an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm only not funny, but what I will tell you is that I'll be running this beautiful Firestone ANS Military 400/18 on the rear wheel. Love it

Actually, I'll be running the same tire on the front as well, albeit in a 400/19, and this is where the shit got annoying.

Fuck it, I'll bore you.

You see, the tire I WANTED TO RUN just so happens to be a very rare, discontinued, vintage tire that is only made in one place, and that place just so happens to be called France. Unfortunately I found this out AFTER I put down my credit card and ordered it from the geniuses whose website doesn't have the ability to tell you when something is out of stock, so imagine my surprise to find out after I'd bought my rear tire from another establishment (that doesn't suck), that my DREAM front tire was not only NOT available, but that it might take 6 weeks to 6 months to receive (as they have the mold and have to wait for the baguette bender to pour a new batch). Needless to say it would have been nice to know this before I ordered my rear tire from the store that doesn't suck so that I could have consolidated shipping costs, received both tires at the same time, and not gotten my hopes up like a pimple faced teenage boy with an erection at the prom.

Thanks Performance Plus Tires of Long Beach, keep up the good work!

Here she is, the one that got away.

PS- I'm still ordering it, Vivre La France!

Speaking of douchebags.

Hey, OLDPHAT of Michigan, If you have a "Buy It Now or Best Offer" button on your ebay auction yet will not accept anything less than what the "Buy It Now" price is, then you shouldn't have the "OR BEST OFFER" part listed. You are wasting your time, you are wasting my time, and you are now officially "That Guy".

Congratulations! Your mug and shirt are on the way.

In the end I did end up buying one of these beautiful little fuckers, although not from Old Fat.

I hope it makes a good paperweight, cause I don't think it's gonna fit on my pipes.

Another douchebag.

So who the fuck you think is livin' to this day?

2009-07-14T12:04:00.000-07:00

Inspired by the stock, 1956 2-into-1 configuration, Mr. Barragan and myself have come up with some sick ass shotgun pipes for the project. This is an early photo when they were just tacked in mockup stage, now the upper pipe is shorter and the lower runs to the rear shock.

I am more than pleased

These just came in the mail and are gonna take it to the next level.

Dash Snow. Such a talent, such a waste.

I used to see him around town all the time, and we'd do that "do I know you" stare down.

He used to kick it with mutual friends, and for years I wondered "who was the skinny dude with the beard and fedora?"- but since that could describe just about anybody on Cahuenga or Echo Park Blvd on any given night, I kept the question to myself.

Finally one night while checking out his work online I came upon a picture of him and it all came together, the face, the name, the work.

At first his work bummed me out big time, the kind of irritation that when peeled away reveals the type of envy one feels when someone comes up with the great idea before you.

The semen art particularly pissed me off. Not cause I thought it was a cop out, gimmick, or trying to out-Terry, Terry, but more so that deep down I was like, this kid is epic.

Once I let go of the beard envy and got over my own shit, I dug the whole trip - the tagging and Irak, the Saddam obsession, the polaroids, the "nests", the New York Post pieces, and the shades of My Own Private Idaho that more than permeated his art brat/street urchin persona.

No matter what you think or say, invariably the work of a man speaks for itself, and he was the real deal. Whether you think he was a genius or a poser doesn't matter, cause the work will be judged for what it is, though it will be hard if not impossible to separate it from the myth now that he's gone.

When I was young I feared I'd join the 27 club.

I'm really glad I wasn't that stupid and stuck around for the good parts.

RIP.

There's no escaping the jaws of the alien this time, this is the end of your life.

2009-06-18T16:55:00.000-07:00

First off, this will be the ONLY entry to ever have a lyric from a non hip-hop song.

Second, I'm not as lazy as one would think from the amount of time since I last updated this page.

I'm married to an amazing lady, I'm a dad to the raddest little dude ever who makes grind sounds when he sees a skateboard, I play in a band that tours for months out of the year and when at home is always recording or producing other artists, I'm half of a screenwriting team that is busy on 3 projects, I am building a motorcycle that will hopefully be done by the time my son graduates junior high, and when my age isn't catching up to me I play hardcore 5 on 5 basketball with a bunch of other geezers, skate like someone who still watches Future Primitive, and Surf like Arizona's own, Rick Kane.

So lest you think your humble narrator a pile who sits around just looking pretty, I have finally found some time to post a little sumfin' sumfin'. (Not that anyone is reading this), and since to quote Rakim, it's been a long time, I've got a lot of ground to cover, so brevity will not be high on the list , so let's get started, shall we?

Note - There will be more than the usual amount of opinion on this entry, so if you are easily offended, afraid of heights, allergic to awesome, or just a pussy, I would skim over the words and just look at the pix.

What can be said that hasn't already been blasted into your living room for the last week nonstop? Still, I have my two cents that I'll throw in the piss bucket.

I don't know if he molested kids (and though I personally don't think he did, that's between him, the kids, and god if you believe in one), I don't know why he fucked up his face to the point of making the cat lady look like Kate Moss (It was all downhill after Thriller), all I DO know is that I knew him personally from the period of Off The Wall through Bad, and he was one of the coolest motherfuckers on the planet.

There's no question his dad did a number on him worthy of a hundred after school specials, and any substantial childhood fame let alone of this magnitude would send most kids straight to a long pilot season in MacArthur Park, but the inner workings of his mental state is not something I can speak about.

What I can speak about is my experience.

I first met ALL of the Jackson brothers and Janet at the family mansion in Encino (My dad worked in the record industry and promoted all the Jacksons and Michael's albums).

I later went to an in-store signing/meet and greet at Freeway Records And Tapes (Old school...and yes, at this point he was still able to do that shit without a riot ensuing).

I saw the Jacksons play live in Los Angeles on one of their final tours. (Probably Triumph, but could have been Victory, still trying to work this out with my folks).

I also went with my dad to a movie theater for the world premiere of a little music video called Thriller.

And finally, following his record 8 wins at the 1984 Grammy's, Michael invited me to hang and have a celebratory dinner with him at his table at the afterparty. (See earlier post for photographic evidence).

Why do I say all of this? Because I fucking IDOLIZED him when I was a kid, as did almost everyone my age. The only difference was I knew him and called him a friend.

This is not to say his death hit me any harder than someone who didn't know him. On the contrary, I would say it made it a bit more strange and surreal, but not any heavier.

When I found out about his passing, I didn't get exceptionally sad as others did....and with the exception of one moment when I saw a childhood picture of him, I still haven't, really.

I can't tell you why, but it's been more of a low grade shock, disbelief, and sadness toward the circus that not only happened following his death, but that has been going on for the last 20 years of his life.

He hadn't been the Michael I knew, nor the the Michael we all knew for a long, long time.

I choose to remember him like this, on the coolest night an 11 year old could ever dream of.

And yes, the Jacket was amazing in person.

And yes, when we shook hands, I shook, "The Glove".

And though I'd hate to disappoint you, no....he didn't touch me.

Meanwhile, someone was having a good time at the BET awards tribute afterparty!

I take great pride in being from The Valley. We spawned a bad Zappa song, Fast Times, the classic Nic Cage flick when he still had hair, and countless other things that don't have to do with the Sherman Oaks Galleria.

That being said this picture rules. As a kid I used to see this phrase tagged on the ground in surfboard wax, painted on walls, and on the faces of angry Santa Monicans (is that a word?)

Venice. Late 70's or 80's.

Not sure, jacked it off someone's facebook.

Sorry.

No doubt these were some of the dudes doing the writing.

Another facebook photo jacking, sorry, but I had to show off two of the homies....

The ruler; Christian Hosoi, and the ever handsome, Scott Oster, if you haven't seen him skate, you haven't seen shit.

Before MJ, Farrah and Ed McMahon died, before South Carolina's Governor Mark Sanford had a Eli Cash type breakdown on national TV, and before Nevada Senator John Ensign broke his "promise" and stuck it in another woman, a little thing happened in Iran, not unlike this little discrepancy we had at the polls in 2000.

I guess one difference between us and the Iranians (though you wouldn't know there were any if you've ever been to Urth cafe on Melrose) is that rather than turn the channel and roll over, they took to the streets.

Actually, I take that back....we take to the streets in protest as well.

Only this demonstration was because some of our most gifted Los Angeles athletes beat some of Orlando's most gifted athletes. This is somebody's mother dancing in the streets as nearby, cars are overturned, buildings burn, and LA pride swells once again.

File under: Embarrassed.

At least that whole Minnesota senatorial race is settled.

Despite putting in a million dollars to help Norm Coleman fight at every level of court, the GOP lost this one.

I don't know what the big deal is, this seems like a perfectly respectable ballot to me?

Does anybody have any Flanders U-Risers they wanna give me for free, just for being awesome?

No? OK. In that case, if you know of a really cheap set that isn't bent, holler at your boy, cause the auction I'm watching on ebay is getting stupid.

The Mayor Of Sunset Junction. Some of you may know of him as "Fi-dolla", "5 Dollar", or "That Guy". But I call him the mayor. It's rare to see him without a huge flag in tow or his little dog in a baby stroller, but here he is with a fucking teddy bear in a wheelchair, just holding it down between Sanborn and Maltman, being epic.

Now guess what they caught from my cousin? The vapors.

I stole this photo (I know, recurring theme, but until anyone reads this blog with any regularity and sends me good shit, I will continue to Robin Hood my way to bloggy goodness) - from Show And Go (amazing site), only for the simple fact that it's my bike as it appeared in 1956, it's year of manufacture.

They shipped some of the first few off to Bud Ekins in Los Angeles, and on that bike he went on to win the International Six Day Trials in Big Bear.

If you are Googling Bud Ekins right now, we can't be friends.

OK, some exceptions.

The Chosen Few.

I absolutely LOVE these dudes, so please, if you are a patched member reading this, don't hurt me for posting this.

When I was sitting with my friend, musical cohort, and motorcycle builder who is doing my bike with me, Michael Barragan (Evil Spirit Engineering), he asked what the theme or"vibe" I wanted my bike to be about.

I showed him this photo.

OK. Everybody is on his jock, posting pix of him, wearing his shoes, running his grips, rocking his boards, I know, I know.

And yes, everything in motorcycle culture is SO fucking trendy now, be it Jason Jesse, flannel shirts, hi-top vans, frisco'd sportster tanks, flake helmets, z-bars, chopper bobber, blah, blah, blah.

But fuck all that, cause this dude is THE REAL DEAL.

I loved him killing it on vert for Real all these years, and I love what he does with motorcycles, specifically his paint. He is so talented, it's almost annoying. I have a tremendous amount of respect for this man and support his business however and whenever I can.

Realness.

Max Schaaf.

I posted this a while back, but can't for the life of me find the link to the blog of the Danish/Dutch or Belgian dude who sells these for a mere 50Euro!!! So if you know who sells this, please, hook a brotha up. I probably stole this pic off your blog anyway.

Totally misleading box, classic film.

Shout out to my boy, André Boutillier, aka, "peg-leg".

Just one more reason Steve Olson is cooler than you.

An old friend of Steve's, an old friend of mine.

Tim Ford.

I miss you, Teeks.

I fucking love my wife.

I know, every blog on the interweb has already posted every last Life magazine shot of the Angels, but this one is just off the charts ruling.

The definition of an 'ole lady'. The nose bandage is so hot it hurts.

I've always been obsessed with NYC street gangs of the 70's.

Perhaps it was a product of watching The Warriors too many times as a kid and fantasizing about this mythical place that my mom and grandfather had told me about.

Even though I'm a native Angeleno through and through, I still feel the tug of my family's Brooklyn roots, specifically Brighton Beach and Coney Island.

This image always makes me happy.

Side note - I've been planning this as a black and white piece on my body somewhere, so don't jack it, cause if I see you in the streets running it, I will scalp it right off you. Tonto style.

And a new segment: NYC STREET GANGS OF THE 60'S AND 70'S.

First up, The real life Warriors.

Brooklyn's "Crazy Homicides".

The illest gear ever, perfect style, and a hardcore NYC street gang back in the 60's, 70's and 80's.

They ran the boardwalk for years, and some of these dudes are still around.

They called these "Jew" hats, I call em Hendrix hats, but the truth is I buy em where the Hassids dwell, so maybe they were onto something.

Moving into the early 80's. Prison shot.

Another Brooklyn set.

The Sex Boys.

The name alone is the greatest thing ever, let alone the vests, so simple, so clean.

They are like the Calvin Klein of top and bottom rockers.

There was an LA crew back in the 80's called Sex Jerx that some of my boys used to run with, but this is another level. Late 60's.... "I say, god damn!"

I love them, but wouldn't want to be in this abandoned lot when these dudes blazed through.

Best-Vest-Ever.

Plus, look how they freaked the Essex St. sign.

Wow.

The Majestics. Early 70's-present. Brooklyn.

It seems like the few gangs from the 60's and 70's that are still standing all transitioned at some point to being MC's.

The Majestics became The Majestics MC.

Their patch changed, no longer bearing a swastika, but still a skull and cross bones with the 13 in the top-hat.

(Side note: being a black man and a Jew, I hate the fetishization of swastikas in moto culture, and yes, I know why it started, as a way to say FTW, and an outlaw stance to piss off citizens, but it's 2009 and anyone running one on a bike or otherwise is sending out a very strong message to both WP skinhead dudes who will think they found an ally, as well as to most people who will just be like, "really dude?" or supremely offended.

My friend is running a few on his pan/shovel, and though I've tried to talk him out of it, he's dead set on it. He was friends with Indian Larry, and he's an old NYC harley guy from the 70's and 80's who came up around the real dudes in the East Village, so I get it, it's in the spirit of the old guys, a big "fuck you", much like what riding a bike in the beginning was anyway - so yes, I get it, it's just an extremely fucked up symbol and I'm not down with it in any way.

But I dig the guy, so what am I gonna do, not be friends with him in protest?

Hell no.

To quote a great man -

"They'll have theirs, and you'll have yours, and I'll have mine, and together we'll be fine, cause it takes different strokes to move the world, yes it does".

One more thing, let's call them what they are, swastikas, cause people in the MC world calling them "swazis" only serves to minimalize the impact of the symbol and underplay it's historical significance, which is rich with ugliness, genocide, modern day hatred, ignorance, and not fresh in any way, and though words and symbols shouldn't have that kind of power, they do.

So, though I swore I'd never run one in my blog, in this case, it's more of a cultural curiosity that a group of black and latino men wore them on their gang vests....not at all uncommon back then, btw.)

End of rant.

If you're still with me, there's some epic pictures below.

From the boogie down Bronx, The Ghetto Brothers. Amazing rockers. Killing it.

The Dirty Ones, Brooklyn.

These dudes weren't playing.

What's amazing, is these dudes were from the Williamsburg chapter of D.O.

Imagine the look on some Am-App-Hipster's face if he came pushing his fixed gear bike up the stairs of his stoop to find these dudes posted up.

When is it OK to start rocking fringe again?

All of the above photos are from an absolutely amazing website that I'm so ob'd with, I almost don't even want you to know about it.

Come to think of it, I'm giving them props right here cause they deserve it and since I jacked their photos to shine some light on classic NY sets, but nobody hipped me to it, I didn't find it on some blog, and neither should you, put in work, beaches!

So if you have fingers and a keyboard and have a search engine in that fancy box you're staring at, I've given you enough info to find it. Ball's in your court, slick.

Meanwhile, back in Los Angeles.

Sugar bear. King of the springer.

Though the white cycle mags of the day were resistant to publish his picture, everyone was influenced by his style.

He still builds and sells his extra long front ends, but like everyone, he looked a whole lot cooler back then.

My friend Michael is just now discovering soul music and black psych rock.

For a starter course, I turned him onto Rotary Connection, Funkadelic's Maggot Brain, Roy Ayers, Gary Bartz, and Sly.

He sent me this with the caption -

"I'm into black people".

Welcome.

I'm kind of ob'd with this guy.

One day about a year and a half ago, my dear friend Kevin Staab set it up so that I could skate his friend's backyard.

I was trying to blast a frontside air over the hip and was having a hard time finding the line to do so.

Luckily said owner of the pool is also a goofy footer, so he did it once and gave me a few pointers. I tried it again, and stuck it. He quickly pulled out his sidekick camera phone, got in position, and asked me to do it again, then when I landed it and rode away he cheered me on like a kid stoked that he landed something for the first time.

I still can't believe that not only did he coach me on it, but snapped the shot himself.

Photo: Tony Hawk.

My band just finished a 4 day tour. It was fun.

It reminded me why I love making music and playing it in front of people.

In San Francisco, while leaving Grubstake, I heard the sound of running and looked up to see this guy booking full speed down a hill wearing only flip flops and a windbreaker.

No pants. No underwear.

We got in the van, and luckily he stopped to make a phone call so we could grab this pic.

Play it W. Axl style -

"Do you know where you are???????"

The tenderloin.

Legend had it there was a wall in an old Soho building that was like a tomb of graffiti past.

Well it turns out the legend was true, and Fab Five Freddy, Futura 2000, and Basqiuat all hit up on this wall that was recently uncovered just as the spot was about to be turned into condos. (Shocking).

Word is they're taking the wall down whole and putting it in a gallery.

For graf heads, this is some Indiana Jones shit.

Holidays have passed since my last blog entry, let's not be strangers.

Happy Independence Day.

Consider my raw demeanor the icing on the cake, I'm grindin'.

2009-05-17T20:00:00.000-07:00

I just realized that after I changed my screenname on Twitter from justinhell to justinwarfield, I neglected to change the link on my blog as well.

The result of this act of neglect on my part was a stream of tweets from an individual with my old screenname who felt compelled to share the following sentiments with the world....

"recovering from a crazy weekend...party, practice, and so much bro love hahaha" - about 2 hours ago

"fuck blink played tonight but i got there too late!!!" - 2 days ago

"fuck T-mobile!!!!! ughhhh"- 3 days ago

Riveting. Needless to say I am going to change the link so that it mirrors MY twitter account, lest you think I turned into a serious Blink fan, and I don't mean Gladwell.

Substitute Goobers for chocolate covered pieces of evil your people call raisins, and this could be the perfect meal.

I fucking miss these.

A Gallup poll conducted earlier this year shows that only 39% of Americans believe in Evolution.

Sweet.

The Sunset Fairfax yard.

Classic.

I used to live a few blocks away in the hills above, and would often visit while this piece was running.

I still think it's one of the best "Letters" pieces I've ever seen in LA.

Rise, KSN.

And the accompanying character. I've never been much of a "Character" guy, but besides being indicative of the time (I'm guessing 88'-89') the chrome on the rearview, the blacked out sky behind, and just the clean lines and style in general made it kill.

That, and it was done by Rev, KSN.

It was just my wife's birthday.

Her dear friend and I threw a huge surprise party for her, it was a rager, and I'm not the rager type.

When I was 11 and this film came out, I knew that when I finally found my girl, I wanted it to feel just like this picture, and nothing less than a Julie of my own would do.

On our wedding day, after we were pronounced man and wife, we kissed, and "Melt With You" played.

Beyond.

Thanks to an interview with 4Q Max in Street Chopper Magazine, I learned of Dave Mann.

I'm in.

It ain't nothin' like black pussy on my dick, word to the motherfucker DJ Quick.

2009-05-15T02:27:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting for someone to do a skateboard shoe that was basically a Wino.

Nice one, Angel.

These are ridic, super comfy, skateable as fuck, and they look like you are going to beat somebody down. I'd expect nothing less from a guy with "Game Over" tattooed across his eyelids. They've been doing shoe launches for this and TK's new banger. Check the Supra link to the right for details (and a pretty lame video cameo from yours truly at the party @ Factory 413).

Oh yeah, I'll spare you the 3rd appearance in photo form and just tell you that I finally got the new Dylan Reider Capezio/Repetto rips, and they kill. Back to Winos and gum rubber.

Speaking of gangster. My little dude looking like Bobby D. in Mean Streets. This is on my mom's bday at this fully legit pizza place next to the gayest movie theater in all of Los Angeles. No, I'm not being a dick, that's their claim to fame. It's the Regent Showcase on La Brea, and there's literally a sign that's like, "come out here". Anyway, I'm down for that, but the point is Verrazano's next door is full NYC style. Great whole pies, and slices as well. Good people. Try the sausage roll. No pun intended.

You know how when you aim your video camera at the TV screen it bugs the fuck out? Well, I wanted to see what would happen when my wife and I ichatted and pointed the laptops at one another. Contrary to my calculations, there were no disruptions in the space time continuum, although Mercury is in retrograde now. Coincidence?

File under : Remakes always blow.

I need.

Project. 56' Triumph Trophy bird. Status: Don't ask.

I started working on the minor aesthetics so I don't lose my mind, so for now I'm getting everything down to raw metal and plan on leaving it in it's natural state.

Here's the Wassell after 10 minutes of fine grain sandpaper love.

I've been thinking of giving it a mild Frisco, nothing too steep, just a little nudge. Then again, I've had crazy visions of weirdo with this thing lately, like throwing a hardtail on it, Z Bars with risers, a springer, you name it. That's what happens when a bike sits and you're not riding it.

I took some parts to a powder coating place to have the chrome stripped.

That gas cap used to be lame as shit. Now it's patina is off the charts.

It's the little things. (Like that vintage Webco rocker box oil manifold)

Bates headlamp assembly, stripped raw. So ridiculous.

Next the upper and lower triple trees and upper fork legs are gonna get hit.

Even this budg 70's octagonal oil bag looks sick after the econo chopper chrome got later'd.

I know, the moto pictures suck, but what do you expect? I shot them on my Blackberry.

I should probably carry a camera around, but that would require me to think and plan ahead, and if I do that, then how will Stefanie get all the great candids of Bowie that go down throughout the day?

But I digress....

So now if we can just mount the seat and fender, pull the front end, throw on some MCM's, clean up the wheels, and nail those bars, then this thing will make it's way over to F.A.G engines and we'll see if Druff and Beans can get this thing ready for Thunder Road.

I know it doesn't look like much now, but trust me, it's gonna be like listening to Burzum doing 120 miles an hour wearing a clown mask with no pants on drinking Listerine.

Stole this pic from Itsume's blog. I don't know her, and I don't read Japanese, but her site is totally killer with some evil shit in just about every area you could want, food, motos, hardcore...

I don't know where in the hell she found this photo, but the only non-entertainment job I've ever had was serving up cups of frojo at this place for my "summer job".

I spent every day slicing strawberries in the walk-in freezer to stay cool and avoid the work and customer service part of the job, and then occasionally I'd meander out to the front to pour hefty kick-down cups of yogurt for the cute girls who walked in off Ventura Blvd.

Correction, I once worked at a Christmas tree lot. But that kinda doesn't count.

If you haven't peeped it out yet, you simply must check pilferedmagazine.com.

Rudj and Patrick Hoelck.

Two great minds joined forces and put together something really nice.

The latest issue is guest edited by Cory K, and features a pic of my favorite non-family male human, Wade Oates of The Virgins. (it's kind of a Lost thing)

I jacked this pic from them, but if you read their mission statement, it's only fitting.

I gotta go pay attention to my wife.

Ladies and gentlemen...and lowlifes.

2009-05-11T02:24:00.000-07:00

I just want to go on record now, so when things turn out exactly the way I'm predicting, you can all go back and say, "Wow, Justin was right".

LOST will end as follows-

Whether it is by Jack detonating a bomb so that the plane never crashed on the island, or by other means, the show will end with all of the original passengers waiting for flight 815 in the airport, only the flight will be delayed or cancelled.

They will never board the flight, they will never crash land on the island, and they will never have the experiences that have taken place over the course of the show.

HOWEVER, once the writers pull it together, (and perhaps read this post), they'll realize that the simple Newhart, "it was all a dream" ending will be lost on today's media savvy ipod babies with limitless appetite and non existent attention span, therefore they will have to throw them a bone so to speak.

So here's what will happen -

Barring death, everything that would have happened (and in fact did) on the island will happen off island...kind of.

Confused? Let me assist.

Jack will still meet Kate and fall in love.

Jin will stop being a dick, learn English, and be cool to Sun.

Etc...

I cannot tell you exactly how this will happen as I do not know, and as evidenced by the last two seasons of random occurrences punctuated by Locke's creepy stare and Ben's Andrew McCarthy impression, neither do the writers, but I can tell you it will probably look something like this.

INT. AIRPORT - DAY

Jack argues with the woman behind the counter, who insists that he cannot bring his father's casket on the plane. Suddenly, A VOICE comes over the monitor.

WOMAN'S VOICE

"All passengers for Oceanic flight 815 to Los Angeles, that flight has been cancelled, please see the ticket counter for further information".

Upon hearing this, KATE makes her way over to the ticket counter where Jack is standing, having just heard the announcement.

KATE

I'm sorry, did you say flight 815 was cancelled?

Suddenly, as if he's hearing a familiar voice (but how could it be?), Jack spins around, where he sees Kate FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME. Their eyes LOCK.

KATE

Do I know you?

________

You get the picture.

The flight is cancelled, they get to talking. Take a later flight, convince the guy in the seat next to Kate to let Jack sit by his "new friend", and lo and behold, after the long flight from Sydney to Los Angeles, there you have it. The seeds of love have been sown.

Except for one thing.

SHE'S HANDCUFFED TO MARSHALL EDWARD MARS.

So since no one except me wants to see Kate go to jail upon returning to Los Angeles, they are going to have to think their way out of this one.

But basically, ALL of the relationships that were formed on the island, and all of the intended destinies that came to fruition as a result, would find their way into being Off Island. (Are you listening Lindelof and Cuse?)

Example - Sayid and Shannon would either meet in the Sydney airport or on the returning flight after 815 was delayed, same goes for Libby and Hurley, Claire and Charley, et. al.

Oh yeah, and somehow Locke could walk.

What this scenario doesn't factor in is the fact that Sawyer would never meet Juliet, Desmond would still be pushing a button and Penny would never find him and have little Charlie. I don't even want to get into Michael and Walt.

You get it, I won't cover every survivor. (Of the original crash, not the cover up/fake crash and those killed on the Island)

I'm sure they'll let me down, and it won't be the first time, (Cause believe me, I wanted Shannon and Boone to have sex the moment I knew their backstory), and though nothing would bum me out more than having to see big Charlie alive and kicking, I'm sure it's the only ending they can conceive that will make all the geeks and casual viewers happy.

So you heard it here first....

Part Newhart, part Wizard Of Oz, part Back To The Future, part Chances Are, and part Dallas, some will be pissed, some will cry tears of joy, and some of us will just cringe when Sawyer and his slumpy shoulders calls someone a pop-culture tinged name, Jack makes his last Jackface, and Hurley utters his last, "dude".

Justin Warfield

5/11/09

Hot cup of coffee and the donuts are dunkin', Friday night in Jamaica, Queens, funkin'.

2009-04-29T00:13:00.000-07:00

In the latest installment of ASYMNK (Amazing Skaters You May Not Know) we have Dug (née Doug) Moore.

Once co-owner of ZT Maximus, now front man for Defcon 4.

Unless you are from New England or had the pleasure of traveling to arguably one of the greatest skateparks of all time, then you probably don't know of this man.

He rips.

Ask around.

Attleboro pool. Eastern Hardcore.

I love you, Arlen Specter.

Now all we gotta do is let Coleman and his GOP cohorts tire themselves out in the Supreme Court system, get Franken seated, and we got 60! ¿Cómo estás, beaches?!

Every once in a while somebody busts out something you always wanted to do but never did, cause you are lazy, and they are not.

But rather than hate, you're stoked and have to get it.

Exhibit A.

Patty H. like a motherfucker.

Slice those sleeves at the forearm Rocky Balboa style, and this shit ain't comin' off no matter how hot it gets up in this beach. Summer look?

As previously stated, I was always more of a KSN than a WCA person, more of a Rise fan than a Risk fan, but credit must be given where credit is due. Some burners are especially sick when you saw it run in person, and some don't translate as well in photograph.

This falls into both categories.

Aerosolics.

A splinter, one-off sort of crew that Risk and Slick did for a minute - but shit, that was a good minute.

Black Karate Federation.

Need I say more?

I had this setup, minus the magnesium trackers, copers, and nose guard. These look like mini-cubics, but the era would suggest rat bones. In any case, one of my favorite decks of all time. Most skaters are superstitious on some level, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I was and am still absolutely certain that this board gave me more pop than I ever had before. I distinctly remember doing some of my best skating on it. Now if I could just find the late 90's equivalent, my prized Ricky Oyola, Zoo York kit with the slick bottom and heavy paint. Damn. Lost loves.

I generally hate it when people dress their kids in "vintage" rock tees, ironic t-shirts, or anything "edgy". But this shirt is a real deal hand-me-down from Duane Peters, to Michael Barragan (Evil Spirit Engineering), and on to me. Something about my dude's first black eye, the Duane Peters anarchy tank, and the fuckin' gun show goin on....it nearly brings tears to these old eyes.

Mid 80's New Edition. Bobby with a side part Bullet (Black Mullet), Ronnie in a weirdo mock neck button up, Ricky in what I'm assuming is a Guess patchwork denim/leather number, Biv giving you blue steel, and Ralph ruling in blue leather like a 17 year old post-Delirious fuck machine. I especially like the edges of the photo, you can tell girlie girl loved her this picture when it was resting up on her dresser. This cardboard frame once housed her junior high school diploma, but she said fuck that and put in a shot of the greatest boy band of all time.

Picture disc.

This is not airbrushed, this is not an optical illusion - that is a stump.

This is your worst alimony nightmare, and my sexual fantasy.

Quentin Tarantino is an oft-quoted screenwriter who I would under normal circumstances, NEVER quote, but in the words of Mia Wallace, "I say, God damn!".

I cannot remember a time I wanted a pair of shoes more.

Never mind the fact that they are probably going to look like ass on me unless I am wearing just the right pair of jeans, not too pegged, not too wide at the bottom, to fold or not to fold?

There's just so many variables that they'll probably just sit by the door and become a play toy for my son, but we all need a dream.

So drop them already, Gravis, I'm ready, and so are 11 other dudes, one of them is the singer in the Virgins, and the rest are boys who think Dylan Reider is a girl, apart from that, only chicks are gonna buy em, all it'll take is a mention in Nylon and they're in UO faster than you can say "Cheap Monday".

Riding on Slauson looking for Crenshaw, turned down the sound to ditch the law.

2009-04-20T02:57:00.000-07:00

Growing up in LA, you were either a WCA person, or a KSN person. Despite the fact that one of my first times bombing was with a WCA legend, Miner One, I was always partial to KSN. Still am.

BBQ and Bikes.

If you haven't read "Soul On Bikes", I suggest you purchase it. It's a great document of the longest running all black, all Harley motorcycle club in the country, the East Bay Dragons MC, Oakland.

Which to some in the 'sickle community is tantamount to this...

The future. Los Feliz carnival. Everything.

The past.

The Grammy's, 1984

And no, Michael didn't "touch it", but I did have to walk Webster to the bathroom. (Even though he was older than me)

Brooke Shields was there, but she must have been in the ladies room. This was years after nothing was coming between her and her Calvins and 20 years before Lipstick Shithole.

If you could pan down you would see the 8 trophies on the table that Jacko won for arguably the greatest pop album post-Beatles.

And if you could pan to the left you would see that the reason I am smiling that smile of 11 year old lust, is that I'm mid conversation with Janet, his baby sister, post Good Times, pre-Nasty Girl.

BTW- My tie and cummerbund are pink.

Not like I'm breaking the story here, but in the event you didn't know this ruling fact, what do these two bikes have in common besides being the "Billy" and "Capt'n America"?

They were built by Ben Hardy, a black bike builder, based out of South Central Los Angeles.

Just before they took the exhibit down on Easter, I took the family to see Black Chrome, a pretty sick collection of all things black biker history, photos, leathers, bikes...epic.

Sensing a theme here?

It was at the California African American Museum, just down a few miles from where Hardy made the Easy Rider bikes, and five blocks from my Grandma's. I didn't have my camera, so thanks to The Vintagent for the shots I snaked.

Effective immediately, I'm jacking this dude's steez.

Also on display at the museum was a sick collection of Black Panther photos by Howard Bingham.

This one kills. Kathleen Kleaver, flanked.

Totally unrelated. Joanna Pettit. Dreamy.

Rest In Peace, my friend, rest in peace.

Los Angeles and the world will not be the same without you.

Shawn Mortensen

1966-2009

Suddenly you feel like you're in a horror flick, you grab your heart and wish for tomorrow quick.

2009-04-08T21:46:00.000-07:00

Happy Passover!

And for the second installment of Amazing Skateboarders You May Not Know, I present to you, Robbie Gangemi.

I first came across Robbie at Maximus, arguably one of the best east coast skateparks of all time.

Located next to the Cambridge projects and 10 minutes outside of Boston proper, Maximus was an indoor park that started its life as ZT Maximus until local tattoo artist/schralper Ram and vert killer Doug took it over in the 90's. It was a street park with a curved bowl opposite a vert wall, quarter parks, manny pad, and vert ramp. Whatever you needed. We would kick out the roller bladers, break out the Sam Adams, turn up The Spacemen 3, and kill it all night till we were sore, then soaked in sweat, brave the snow outside. Other guys I've seen lay it down at Maximus: Matt Pailes, unknown epic-local Mike Brown, Vanik, Kevin Day, and Vinnie Ponte (chest-high ollies out of the bowl).

I could write pages about the impact that place had on Boston and east coast skating as a whole, but I will keep it brief and say that with the exception of Upland Pipeline when I was a child, some of the most fun and epic sessions of my life went down at that place.

Maximus. RIP.

But I digress.

The first person I met, the first time I walked into those hallowed halls was to become one of my favorite skateboarders of all time, Mr. Gangemi.

This was about 94 or 95, and before he came to fame with Zoo York Mixtape or Eastern Exposure 3 in the shared part with Jahmal (featuring Panama Dan, I might add).

I didn't actually see him skate that that much on that given evening, as he mostly just cruised around the park. But when my mom moved to Boston and I found myself spending weeks there at a time, I really came to know the skating of this kid.

Style doesn't even begin to describe his whole shit, from his board control, all the way to the tips of his fingers, everything was styled out. Plus he's goofy foot, which is nice.

I've seen him throw down tech lines on the street course at Maximus, then walk over to the vert ramp and not only skate it hard, but drop tech shit on that as well. Inspiring.

Besides the park, I was lucky enough to skate around the streets of Boston with him, and even better; kick it at our boy Steve's house listening to the Wu.

If you know skating, you know that there are some guys who you just have to see in person to fully appreciate, and if you know Robbie, you know he's one of those dudes.

Boston skating is ill as fuck, as you will see when I feature more of them in "ASYMNK", but for now, marinate on this dude for a minute.

Legend.

It's all in that left hand.

Saw these on some random blog a while back, if you come across a pair in size 12, challah.

1975. My first setup. I wish I still had mine, or a pic of it for that matter. But alas, the interweb provides as the dude abides.

Logan Earth Ski, Bennett trucks, and Kryptonics wheels (1 yellow, 1 red, 1 green, 1 blue).

They are all over Egay, but it's really not the same. (And the last time I tried to recapture my skouth on that fuckin' site I bought a too-small 60-dollar pair of musty mildew Rector gloves that are sitting in my backyard like a dead bird).

My friend and favorite tour bus driver, Skot Jonz turned me onto this.

As featured in The New York Times, I give you, DEATH.

1970's Detroit proto-punk made by 3 Brothers. (Both literally, and as in black as fuck).

Delicious.

Post Stooges and MC5, pre-EVERYTHING ELSE.

I would jack dude in center's style, except I've been rocking that look forevz.

Antwuan Dixon.

Gnarly.

Okay. You probably don't like Diablo Cody.

You are probably a hater.

I was for a minute, then I pulled my head out of my asshole and realized how dope it was that a young woman like her was getting props and winning awards for writing something relevant and not some Merchant/Ivory bullshit.

Good for her. She's opening doors while you're peeking through them judging everyone on the other side.

She was doing this on dial-up when you were still listening to Britney (not ironically as you do now).

She's doing it while you're talking about it...and doing it with personal style and flair.

You're thinking, "she wears animal print, creates her own language, and is like a Suicide Girl, only eight years too late", and you know what, you're right.

But who cares?!

That's REAL.

And she's real.

And that's a lot fucking cooler than being some hipster bummer chick who wears what she's supposed to, reads what she's told to, lives by the code of Brooklyn Vegan, drinks PBR, and clams notes on her bass while playing in the back room of The Cool Dive Bar, in the newly gentrified Cool Neighborhood, with her all-star indie-cred band that sounds like old Royal Trux, and is named after a mumblecore movie, while her 10 Coolest friends watch with folded arms, secretly wishing they could be at home listening to Fergie and watching Idol.

I say, right on Diablo, and long live the Fempire!

Besides, have you ever woken up to this kind of hangover?

Police, eat a dick, straight up.

2009-04-06T19:39:00.000-07:00

Jim Greco/Deathwish model Supra. I can't stop rocking these. So epic. Reebok style for 2009, hair-metal fantasy.

My Twitter pic. I just love this. Walking past, my wife said, "Batty, batty, batty!". If you don't get it, you don't get it.

I suck at blogging. I have a full life, so it makes it hard. But in an effort to step it up and try to update at least once every other day, I've decided to start featuring little known, underrated, unknown, or just under the radar shralpers. Everyone knows of the guys who get the coverage, but everybody also knows of someone who just kills it when the cameras aren't around. This is a section for a few of those guys who have made an impact on skateboarding and my life.

First in this category is a guy that is the definition of gnarly.

Seriously, he is a brutal skater, bad ass motherfucker, and the kind of guy you just wouldn't ever want to fuck with.

I have seen him attack coping like it talked about his family. He makes me want to be more aggressive in all areas of my life.

I've met him, but I don't really know him....nor do I want to. It would ruin it, like bro'ing down with Santa Claus.

Ladies and gentlemen, Chuck Wampler.

Can you put that much style into a back smith? Shut the fuck up, you're lying.

Thanks to Reza @ thearabparrot.com for the above shot, and concrete d's for below.

Eric Ray Davidson, google him. He is an fucking amazing photographer. He shot a bunch of candids of my son and I the other day while I was shopping at Confederacy. His shots for The New York Times during fashion week are on display and for sale there, so if you're in LA, check it out. You can also check him out at ericraydavidson.com. That is where I found this shot. I don't know who this guy is, but I am going to start jacking his steez as of tomorrow. Be warned.

Eddie.

Stefanie King Warfield. My wife. She was wearing these when we met, Jelz?

Netflix this, and just try and keep your pants on.

The right wing is scared.

Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one, representing BK to the fullest.

2009-03-09T18:42:00.000-07:00

R.I.P.

And in lighter news...

Dylan Reider is about to drop the craze shoes. Sort of a Repetto style joint. They look worn in, cozy, just about skateable, and exaclty like the powder grey Capezios I rocked back in 6th and 7th grade. I would normally never blink at a Gravis shoe, believe me, my loyalty is with Supra and I was born in Vans, but seriously, a dance shoe, this is beyond.

Pray the kids wearing those horrible Tom's never get a hold of these.

It was war they wanted, and war they got, but they wilted in the heat when my uzi got hot.

2009-03-09T03:52:00.000-07:00

Sweep the leg, Johnny.

I've always loved this photograph of Belle And Sebastian. It is timeless and classic and makes me want to be there.

There is nothing quite as satisfying as finding something after wanting it for so long, especially when it's meaningful, nostalgic, and an item you once had and lost.

But with that sigh of relief, moment of elation, and temporary quieting of the mind comes the inevitable, insatiable need for the next thing to fill that Paypal shaped hole.

Now if I can just find the Rector corduroy shorts from the same period in either yellow and red or yellow and blue, I'm not picky.

Red Max Schaaf 4Q Conditioning edition Vans Syndicate in fireproof suede/leather. When all the stores are sold out of your size, sometimes you have to dig a bit on the interweb, and once I spent a day kickin' around in the black ones, I just had to buy these. An amazing update on the half Cab, and one of the top 5 best skate shoes of all time. Period.

The black ones.

And I'd be lying if I told you that having a choice of these two sets to rock on the Trump didn't sweeten the deal. Now if I can only get Max to paint my tank and fender...

The cops passed by, but he stayed calm, cause the leather trench coat was keepin' him warm.

2009-03-02T18:55:00.000-08:00

Far from a hybrid, not exactly practical, and still, I long for this automobile.

Behold....the 1970 Chrysler 300.

In my eyes, the ultimate Mopar.

I had it all worked out where I was going to buy the cleanest, most epic one you could ever have the pleasure of seeing, however, when the kind gentleman who owned the vehicle phoned his car-less friend he had loaned said car to, she informed him that she had SOLD IT.

Yes, SOLD IT.

If you think I was bummed, imagine how he felt.

I searched every Craigslist country-wide the week it was sold. Nada.

I suspect it's garaged somewhere while the lucky recipient/bastard laughs his/her ass off.

If you see it, hit me up. It's black with blue and orange pinstriping down the side...(and not a Hearst model as shown).

Besides being the aforementioned "Kind Gentleman" above, the man exuding classic 80's b-boy below is none other than Vincent "Prince Vince" Gallo as featured on the beyond rare and way-ahead-of-it's-time, "Graffiti Rock".

Amazing.

Bob.

British steel.

Triumph Tiger 500.

Perfection.

If you don't know who the man below is, then you need to ask somebody, and if you do and think there's a cooler motherfucker around, you better apologize too.

And the luckiest guy in show business is.......

When people ask me about the hair metal days, I tell them I was deep in hip hop and lucky to have missed it.

So while you and your friends were suckin' on short cans of Club Brand mixed drinks hot boxing the Celica with Aqua Net and Mex weed, we were busy livin' that good shit.

Most kids accept this as cool, I exit cause I'm an exception to the rule.

2009-02-28T02:44:00.000-08:00

Rear fender not yet mounted, seat pan ready for neoprene and tuck & roll zodiac, all wiring and plumbing disconnected, and in need of a top end rebuild from Dan and Curtis at F.A.G.

1956 Triumph Trophy Bird.

So close...

1971 Biker flick about a cross dressing MC on the run from some 1%ers and the law. Made two years before I was born....

...and starring my dad. (Not the fat white dude rocking the swazi, the brother with the fro in the back).

Really feeling this. I recommend you hit Amazon or the evil Itunes and download you some Jacksons, pronto.

For Cuzzy.

When reading email and facemail, I often feel like Rosemary must have felt right here.